


Blueberry Magic (SansxReader)

by flamingburningfandomtrash



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (from Parents), Burns, F/F, F/M, Mild Smut, Possessive Sans (Undertale), Protective Sans (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Soulmates, Synesthesia, Verbal Abuse, Worried Sans (Undertale), reader has magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 77,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22894261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamingburningfandomtrash/pseuds/flamingburningfandomtrash
Summary: You doubt you're worth anyones' time.You have more secrets than redeeming qualities.But the universe demands you meet your soulmate in a bakery, issues and all, and it's up to you to decide if you can do it.Edit: Fanart by Fivellion!! From chapter 16, spoiler warning:<3
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 475
Kudos: 401





	1. Teaser

You weren’t going to last much longer. He was pressing it. You asked him not to, you told him it was complicated, but he was pressing it, and you were going to break. You’re going to snap, and then you’ll shatter, you can already feel the cracks.

“Please stop,” you whisper, taking a few more steps back.

“i’m not moving until you tell me what the hell is up with you.”

“Y-you wouldn’t- you wouldn’t get it- you wouldn’t-“

“try me.”

Your breaths are going to snap you clean in half, the tears are building, and its burning your throat-

“P-please… just… it’s easier for everyone if we just leave it, okay?”

“i don’t want easy. i want you to be ok, and not “faking it” ok.”

Blue magic flickers at your fingers, your eyes glow. Sans notices immediately, taking a step away from you.

“You REALLY want to know?” you ask, shaking with restraint.

“yes!”

All the blue magic pooled in your hands strikes out at once, and your entire body is flaming with it. Your eyes are on fire, they’re glowing, you’re burning, it hurts-

“wh-“

“This shouldn’t be possible, humans with magic,” you inform him, shaky tears carving tracks down your face, “but here I am. You got ME!”

It’s all blue magic, motion and gravity, patience that you never had, it’s dragging you to the floor with the crushing weight of it.

“berry-“

“And- and I always listened to you, talking about the first humans, the ones with magic, and you were so ANGRY.”

Sans watches, feeling like his soul is going to shatter at the amount of pain contorting your face. Burning your body in blue. 

“SO NOW YOU’RE GOING TO KILL ME, AND IT’LL FINALLY BE OVER.”

“i’m not-“

With a final flare, like a big finale, the magic finally burns your skin, singes the edges of your hair. You cry out, but not desperately. Through gritted teeth. You should have had some sort of outlet before you saw him again. This is too much. It’s going to break you. 

“stop, you’re hurting yourself-“

“NO!”

And then, just as fast as it came, it extinguishes. And it leaves you to crumble to the floor. 

“hey,” he says, trying to sound reassuring, coming closer- you shrink back.

“Don’t touch me,” you snarl, panting. The long burns up and down your body, red blistering skin, the tips of your hair charred black. None of that matters to you, though- what really stings is the look he’s giving you.

Intense regret. It’s so acute, you’re empathetic.   
Or maybe you just regret this regardless.

His eyelights sweep over your injuries, over the resentful look in your still-very-blue eyes, putting the puzzle pieces together. This is what you didn’t want him to know. This is what’s been hurting you lately. This… this is so much worse than he expected.

Controlled magic, trained, that’s one thing. That might actually be cool as hell.

But yours is raw. Untempered. Screaming. It’s all emotion and soul, it’s all magic. Hell, it’s all blue. You don’t know how to use it. You’ve been needing to release it, to give yourself some sort of output. But you haven’t. That could have killed you, but how were you supposed to know?

“Get out.”

Sans looks up, not sure he’d heard you right. You never want to be alone with problems. “what?”

“Get. Out. Don’t come back. I’ll figure it out myself.”

You’d never turned a harsh word against him before. And he knows you’re still riding the high of your emotions, but… 

“i can’t leave you like this.”

“I’ll… I’ll hurt you, if that’s what it takes to get you out of here.”

He knows you wouldn’t… or does he? You’re full of wrong behavior right now, so maybe you would. All Sans knows is he doesn’t plan on calling your bluff.

“i’ll be back tonight, ok? or Papyrus will come. one of us. you need healing magic, and i know you won’t take it right now, but…”

A half-hearted attack comes his way, landing on the floor in front of him, and he stands.

“fine.”

And then he’s gone.

~~~~~  
You need to go back.  
You need to start over.  
Will anyone go with me?


	2. A Very Good Place To Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet your soulmate!  
> Anxious wreck + lovestruck baby trope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I named MC again because  
> well you can't stop me so...  
> Clara

Let’s start at the beginning- a very good place to start.

You’re standing outside of your little local bakery, staring longingly at the rows of blueberry cupcakes. Blueberries have always been one of your favorite things. The smell reminds you of your very favorite color. 

Synesthesia, that’s what you have. Your brain-wires got crossed, so to speak. Every smell in the world, big or small, triggers a color flash in your vision. Sometimes it can be a little overwhelming, but you’ve learned how to deal with it. Blueberry smell triggers a beautiful ocean blue that you could hold behind your eyes forever. You’ve always loved blue.

Maybe that’s because of…

…

never mind.

You’re wondering if you could scrap together enough pocket change for just one of the bitty cupcakes- searching through your wallet and sticking your tongue out in concentration. Just one taste, one smell… you wish you’d remembered your credit card on your little shopping trip. When you finally come to the conclusion that you just won’t have enough money, you decide to walk in. Maybe you can just smell the air, or take a few (hundred) samples from the toothpick tray. 

Little do you know, you have eyes- or rather, eyesockets- on you.

~~~~~

Sans had come solely for the chocolate chip cookies, because it was the only junk food Papyrus tolerated under his roof, and they were insanely good. Plus, this place has monster discounts for the first month of its opening, so it was easy to convince Paps of the good deal. Honestly, the guy could be such a cheapskate: but he made sure to spend money when it came to quality. That’s a skill Sans doubts he’ll ever have.

He digs around for his wallet, slightly distracted. Man, he really got lucky when it comes to siblings. People who tolerate all his issues. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to remind himself that he’s worth people’s time, too. That’s what Tori always told him to say, because he was supposedly a fairly good person when he could get past all his mental crap. Supposedly- he thinks- because he never gets past his mental crap. And, frankly, he doubts he ever will. 

But… wow, that smells good. What are they baking back there, anyway? He hands the guy behind the counter a wad of change, smelling the air. It’s like linen, and baking bread, and buttercups. Soft. It makes him sigh happily, it makes everything go still. A relief from the constant buzz of anxiety. 

Man, and he thought that was it. The smell had nothing on the song.

A soul song. Someone in this bakery has a soul that’s singing just for him. Christ, it makes his proverbial stomach drop- he can feel his bones relax, his eyelights twitch, everything in him take a long sigh. That’s some music you’re making. (Not that he knew it was you yet.) He has to finish this cookie-buying trip before he could turn to you. And besides, he could pin-point that song anywhere in a crowd now, so he wasn’t worried about losing you. 

But the very second his change was in his hand, he turned around to have a look.

(Not that he actually wants a soulmate. He can appreciate the music, hell, he wouldn’t mind listening to it for an eternity, but a partner sounds like far too much work. Besides, he already has Paps to worry about. Another person to protect in his life might crush him. 

And, honestly, he’s never actually thought he’d ever find his. Destiny- or some of that shit- is supposed to bring soulmates together. However, him and the universe have a bad habit of hating one another, so he’s always assumed it just wasn’t designed for him. Who cares? Another big middle finger from the universe would just be a regular Thursday.)

However, any thoughts about not needing you are quickly chucked out the window as soon as he sets sights on you. 

He isn’t a crying guy, or anything- but seeing you across the teeny bakery might have been enough to make a big guy like him shed a tear or two. In all regards, he has never seen anyone like you in his life. 

You’re a human, a tiny human, barely up to his ribcage in height. You’re short by human standards: to a huge monster, you’re child-sized. He wants to scoop you up in his arms, carry you somewhere safe, shield you with himself, hide you away where nobody can ever hurt you. He wants to read with you, share quantum theories, watch long stupid movies, take a nap. He wants to be with you. He wants YOU.

And that little face- you’re taking deep breaths of the air, eyes half-closed, letting the smell of baking things crash over you. Even from over here, he can see your eyes are an electric blue. Unnatural, almost. Not soft, or almost-grey, or almost-green- your eyes are truly blue. Blue-magic blue. 

Is it possible for, over the course of thirty seconds, someone to go from expendable to everything? All Sans knows is, he isn’t leaving you yet. He has to meet you, he has to make some sort of move. Which is why his feet carry him over to you, and he forces his (proverbial) tongue to untie.

~~~~~  
When you saw the tall monster crossing over to you, you tried to let yourself relax. Monsters have always put you on edge, but not for the reason you’d think. You see them as people, great, kind, generous people- but having magic-wielders around you is freaky.

OTHER magic-wielders, that is.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not going to buy anything, I’ll leave if I need to,” you mumble nervously at your shoes. 

“d-don’t sweat it, kid. was gonna ask if ya want a cupcake.” (Is that what he was going to ask? It seems rushed, like he’s tripping over his own feet.)

“Seriously?” you ask, incredulous.

You feel your face light up, but you shut it down as soon as you can. You don’t accept food, gifts, money from strangers. Not because you don’t trust them- you have a tendency to think everyone has the best intentions in mind- but because it’s rude. And you don’t deserve it, anyway. 

“I-I mean- sorry. I can’t. Thank you for offering, though.”

He almost looks disappointed that you said no, which makes you feel guilty. Maybe he’s just trying to be nice… maybe you’re being rude by saying no?

“I mean- I’m sorry- I mean, if you want to, but only if you get one too, I mean, if you want to eat, um, together, eating by myself kind of makes me stressed.”

…

Why the hell would you tell him all that?

~~~~~  
He watches your face light up at his offer, and it feels like his soul song and yours are in perfect harmony. It feels blissful, and he wants nothing more than to make it happen again. He just wants to make you happy. No matter what it takes. And clearly, offering to buy you a cupcake is a smooth way to go.

“I-I mean- sorry. I can’t. Thank you for offering, though.”

Oh… well, yeah, he is kind of a creep who just wandered up to you and offered food. That’s a bit off-putting, he couldn’t blame you for being dubious. He would be, too, if someone twice his size (and creepy-looking) suddenly offered him something. But you don’t look mistrustful (thank Asgore for that), you just look… guilty.

He sighs inwardly. Great. Of course his soulmate would have the same frickin’ anxiety he has. You don’t deserve that, you shouldn’t…

“I mean- I’m sorry- I mean, if you want to, but only if you get one too, I mean, if you want to eat, um, together, eating by myself kind of makes me stressed.”

That makes him grin broadly, and he nods.

“same. whaddya want?”

You immediately fire off, “blueberry,” without bothering to specify at all what you mean by that. Your face heats up as you stutter at your mistake- though, at this point, he’d probably buy you every blueberry pastry in this place if that would you smile again. But, luckily for his wallet, you blush and add,

“Uh, cupcake. Please. Thank you.”

“k. no prob.”

He shows you a table, which you take (feeling like a lady being offered a seat by some lovely gentleman) while he orders. And when he comes back carrying two little plates, a blueberry cupcake on each one, you almost squeal. As he starts to eat his, you instead poke a hole in the blueberries on top with your fork and take in a deep breath.

At this point, you don’t care what this skeleton thinks of you. The sensory overload is like a high, and you plan to ride it as long as social etiquette will allow. 

“so, uh, what’s yer name?”

You look up, flushed and grinning, from your cupcake, in time to inform him-

“Clara.”

“cute.”

You get even more red than you already were- the big skeleton blushes blue back. You’re guessing he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“Yours?” you ask, before taking a big bite of your cupcake.

“s-sans,” he says, almost choking on the word. 

You nod and smile, licking a little bit of icing off your lip and swallowing.

“Like… the font?”

“heh- yup.”

“That’s so cool.”

He grins- you smile back. He’s adorable, despite, at first glance, you assumed he was a lot tougher than this. You can’t pin down why you feel so comfortable around this guy, but he seems nice. Not creepy or murder-y, by any standards… so, a plus. And he bought you free food!

His smell brings up a nice color, too. A different shade of blue, a darker, somehow warmer one. A smooth indigo-navy. Almost black, but not. Definitely not. You breathe in again, trying to get deeper in it. Some instinct makes you want to stand up, bury your face in that coat he’s wearing, and let that color leave a mark on the inside of your eyelids. You decide you’ll try to paint it with some watercolors when you get home instead.

“heh- ’s a real treat getting to talk to ya,” he adds. You think that’s a pun, it sure sounded like one. You giggle.

…

Wait, is he hitting on you-

~~~~~  
Sans watches as you break open the blueberries on the top of your cupcake and breathe in deeply. So, scents’re your thing. He has something similar, honestly, but not seemingly to the extent you do. As you talk, you eat, licking bits of frosting off your lips and giggling through bites. 

He wonders, quite suddenly, how those lips would feel on his bones. Tiny butterfly kisses on his skull. On his teeth, nuzzling him. On his eyesockets, to wake him up in the morning. On his sternum, making his soul do backflips in his chest under you as you pin him down, peppering down kisses all over him, gentle but fast-

“so, uh, what’s your name?”

Bad path to go down with you sitting right here, he decides.

“Clara.”

You said it with a hard a in the middle, and you made sure to emphasize that. He knows that he’ll get it right when you’re upset, but he’ll definitely mess with you otherwise. 

“cute.”

Oh, god, did he say that out lo- but- your face flushes, and you laugh again, nervous. Worth it, worth it, worth it…

“Yours?” you ask, around another bite of cupcake. A blended smell of shampoo and blueberries come his way, and he finds himself close to collapsing on the table. Everything, everything about you is pure perfection…

“s-sans,” he stutters out.

“Like… the font?”

You know comic sans is a font, you can recognize it!! But is that a good thing or a bad thing, what are you going to say if he says yes…?

“heh- yup.” 

“That’s so cool.”

His face lights up at that, causing you to laugh. Something about that laugh makes him want to hear it more. You’re a real drug on his soul. But you can’t know that yet. He’ll take his time with you, he’ll be gentle and relish every second as he gets to know you. His Clara. His little blueberry.

“heh- ’s a real treat getting to talk to ya,” he says, awkwardly, watching you lick your fingers. That is both cute and hot. You’re so tiny. But, still, oh GEEZ, that is hot. 

You snicker- “Was that a pun or a pickup line?”

“both?” he asks, laughing to himself. 

He can see, quite clearly, that you are not accustomed to being hit on. You stutter, heat quickly rising to your face and ears, laughing. You have no idea what to do. 

“Okay, u-uh- could you try a different one? I messed up,” you say, burying your face in your hands. 

He laughs. “uh- ok, got one. i lost my number, can i borrow yours?” 

You start laughing into your hands, but manage to stutter out,

“I mean, I don’t give out numbers to guys I’ve just met, but… this is the first date, so it’s only fair!”

Now the two of you are in a giggle fit, cupcake crumbs all over your hands, trying to get over how perfect this is. But, true to your word, you give him your number before you head home. 

You don’t want this to be the last time you see your skeleton friend.

~~~~~

Sans decides to take the time until he sees you again to read up on soulmates, so he can really, truly, honestly get it right. No cutting corners, not for this. 

Luckily, the updated Librarby (how they managed to get the sign wrong twice he has no idea- or maybe this time it was on purpose) has plenty of reading material on the subject, from baby monster soulmates, to fire-water elemental soulmates, to being mate-less, to… human-monster soulmates, aha. He checked out all of those books. He assumed they were reliable, having been written by a monster and a human who happened to both be soulmates and have passions for writing. This is a deus ex machina for Sans, honestly.

The material has a lot of information on the initial connection- how you knew they were really yours. But he already knows. All the books did was tell him he’s right. That feeling of peace in his soul when he’s with you, the fulfillment your smiles give him. Your little gestures, your jokes, your kindness. He loves everything about your soul. Not that he also hasn’t come to appreciate how you look. Because, damn, he has.

Your eyes, your little lips, your squishy human-ness, your curves. He’d never really understood the appeal of those until now. You’re slightly heavy-set, just like he is. At least, for a human. HE could hoist you up like a doll and carry you off if he wanted. No, not if he wanted: he wants to. He could carry you off if he wasn’t afraid of scaring you off with the smallest mistake. Even your hair, which is bushy and long, that you try and fail to flatten out every morning, is beautiful to him. Which is a bit of a stretch in the romance department, he admits, though that doesn’t make him feel any different. 

What stings, the books said, is that humans can’t feel that connection- at least consciously. While they may be drawn to you, fit you like a puzzle piece, love you, they might not know for a long, long time that it’s something beyond initial attraction. That’s the kicker for him. Because the faster he can fall asleep with you on his chest, the better. 

Luckily for him, you’re a helpless romantic by nature, once you can get around your anxiety. So, with a little wooing, he should have a chance.

~~~~~

“hey, paps?”

“YES, BROTHER!!”

“you still have that dating manual?”

Sans has seen his brother move fast, but in that moment Papyrus was RIGHT there, leaning over him on the couch, with the most-starry eyed expression he’s seen since Frisk offered to date him. (Weird kid.)

“WHO IS IT?????”

“uh.”

“BROTHER I’VE SEEN YOUR BOOKS ON SOULMATES ALL AROUND THE HOUSE ALREADY!! WHO-IS-IT?”

Sans laughs a little while Paps jumps up and down. Of course he noticed, he’s a million times more observant than people give him credit for. And, to be fair, he’s awful at hiding his books. (That was how Undyne found his field journal about timelines a few weeks ago and asked a bunch of very concerning questions.)

“alright, alright, sit down. but you gotta promise me not to tell anybody, bro, i don’t want our friends scaring her off right off the bat.”

He flies into his seat beside Sans, offering his pinkie finger.

“I “PINKIE PROMISE”, AS FRISK TAUGHT ME, AS WE DON’T HAVE HEARTS TO CROSS OR EYES TO NEEDLE LIKE UNDYNE AND ALPHYS!!”

The older brother locks fingers with him, chuckling, and the two shake. 

“NOW TELL ME!!”

“so, i’m at the little bakery down the street with the good cookies. and i just…”

He can barely put into words how perfect he finds you, your soul song, your delicious smell and gorgeous eyes.

“i just saw her, and knew, y’know? so bought her a cupcake, we talked for a bit and uh, now i have her number.”

“PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T USE A PUN.”

“uh. one.”

“ONLY ONE!! THERE’S HOPE FOR YOU AFTER ALL!!” he exclaims, pumping his fists in the air. 

“heheh. but i did use one of those awful pick-up lines tori taught us.”

“UGH, OF COURSE. WHICH ONE.”

Sans puts on a fake-sexy expression and shoots him some finger guns.

“i lost my number, can i borrow yours?”

Papyrus fake-swoons, causing the both of them to start laughing together. Paps drags a hand down his face, laughing and groaning.

“I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU, BROTHER.”

“i just can’t believe she’d talk to me, y’know? i thought she’d hate everything and run off, but…” a goofy smile comes to his face at your smile, your response to his cheesy line. “heh. you know, she didn’t.”

When his remark is met with silence, Sans looks around. Papyrus has both hands pressed together, holding them in front of his mouth. 

“Sans.”

“uh… yeah?”

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT YOUR BEING AMAZING AND THE BEST BROTHER I’VE EVER HAD?”

He chuckles and rubs the back of his skull, shrugging.

“i am those, i guess?”

“YES. AND WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT, BESIDES THE HORRIBLE JOKES, EVERYONE ALWAYS NATURALLY LOVING YOU?”

“that’s a bit of a stretch,” he says, shrinking into his hoodie.

“IT ABSOLUTELY IS NOT. I THINK YOU AND YOUR SOULMATE ARE GOING TO WORK OUT PERFECTLY! SO NO! MORE! SELF! DEPRECATING! WORDS!!”

“heh… thanks.”

He perks up to sniff the air, after a moment. 

“is something burning?”

“OH!! MY SPAGHETTI IS DONE!!” Papyrus says, jumping up- “I’LL BE RIGHT BACK, YOU MUST TELL ME WHAT SHE LOOKS LIKE!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Synesthesia, anybody?  
> I have the sound => color kind, but Clara has the smell => color kind
> 
> also it was my birthday yesterday so  
> *weak party horn noise*


	3. Two Dates, One Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans realizes your mental health is questionable at best, and invites you over to game night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um I was going to wait a bit longer before posting this but like 50 kudos and we aren't even two chapters in so here's a gift I love you guys  
> (sorry if the timeline is a tad bit weird, had to break game night in half to make this work) :)))))

You’re waiting in the café, nervous and twitchy. Sans was supposed to be here at twelve, but it’s five after, and there’s no sign of him. You’re slightly concerned he decided to ghost you, or mess with you or something. Maybe this would be a joke, this whole thing. 

You stare at the table-top, wondering if- if he does show up- this is a good idea. You’re just leading him on. You’re just lying. He doesn’t know what’s going on in your head. He doesn’t know your secret. You can’t have a romantic relationship with him, your mood swings would be everywhere. What if…

you hurt him, or something…

You imagine him walking in on you having a panic attack, while you look like some sort of demon, fire everywhere. He’d probably a little concerned at first, a little scared. But once you’d calmed down, and he knew you’d been lying to him this whole time, he’d hate you. He probably already does.

You glance at your phone again. No texts. 12:08. Maybe you got the date wrong? Maybe he wasn’t expecting you to be on time, so he decided to come late? 

“heya.”

You jump and look up at the deep voice- Sans is standing behind you, grinning sheepishly. Oh, thank god, he came.

“sorry i’m a little late, pun-war ran long.”

“Nonono, it’s fi- wait, what’s a pun war?”

“can i explain over food? ‘m starving.”

“Oh, yeah, of course! Um- on me, since you paid last time,” you say, fumbling through your purse for your wallet.

“not a chance, you’re the lady or whatever. etiquette, right?”

“I-I mean, it IS the 21st century, heh!”

“and yet we still don’t have flying cars,” he shrugs, heading toward the counter. “so you’ll pay when cars fly.”

You grin and put your money away. This guy is hilarious… you wonder vaguely why he’s hanging out with you. Maybe, he feels bad for you? Even after you couldn’t pay for your own friggin’ cupcake, he thought you needed money and friends or something? But when he walks back over to your table, with two plates, grinning like he just told a really awful joke (that he’s probably yet to tell), you decide to worry about that later. 

His plate has one of their specialty jumbo (monster sized) chocolate chip cookies, and yours with a normal-sized one, and a small cardboard carton… filled to overflowing with blueberries. 

“yeah, they were a little skeptical, but luckily they just got a shipment of fresh ones in, so i thought, why not give it a shot?” he says, referring to them.

“. . . thank you,” you mumble, eyes wide with surprise. 

“heh, uh- you ok?”

“I… you’re so sweet,” you giggle, looking back up at him with a small smile. “I don’t know what I did, but you’re so nice to me, I just- I don’t know, I’m grateful.”

~~~~~

Sans feels his soul clench painfully. Who hurt you? Who convinced you that you weren’t… everything? He’s lucky as hell that you weren’t already besieged by a hundred guys when he found you. Though, he gets the feeling you’d be more surprised at more than one person being attracted to you than at a monster. 

“‘f course i’m nice to ya, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you love someone?” he says, winking.

Your eyes are wide as saucers, and you have the most perfectly surprised face. After a second or two of shock, you start stuttering, your entire body trembling slightly. 

“I-I- I mean, I appreciate it and everything, d-don’t get me wrong, I mean, it’s flattering, but, uh, I’m not sure you w-want to, um, do that, because, heh, I’m not really, uh-“

He sits back and lets you trip over your own two feet for a moment before coming to your rescue.

“hey. i didn’t think you’d give a shit that i exist, and i don’t think you thought i’d give a shit that you exist. funny thing is, i do. and funny thing is, i think you do for me. so how ‘bout we both accept we have screwy self-esteems and try our best?”

You shut your mouth and nod. Even though, that in itself is a lie.

“alrighty then.”

And he starts in on his cookie.

~~~~~  
You watch him eat, a little surprised. You’ve never noticed him open his mouth until now- you notice to help the process along, he has a blue tongue. Probably summoned by magic. When he catches you staring, he sticks it out at you to make you laugh.

You can’t help but imagine if that would be safe to be used… outside of eating. 

That thought makes you start blushing again. 

“So, um, you never told me what a pun war is.”

“oh- i got this friend, right? goat lady, real sweet. but she’s a pun MASTER, you have no idea. and we both started making plant puns- i mean, i won, but that’s not the kinda thing that you can just leave hanging. gotta defend my honor. sorry if i worried ya or somethin’.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. She sounds really nice.”

“heh, my brother nearly had a heart attack- well, he would, if he had a heart. he hates my puns, heheh.”

“Older or younger?”

“i’m the oldest, though ya wouldn’t be able to tell. he’s all tall and cool and junk. he’s basically been the one takin’ care of me since we were babybones. super positive. all the energy,” he says, grinning.

“Aww. You sound so proud of him.”

“i am, every frickin’ day. he’s everything i would want to be, if i had the energy.”

“That’s so sweet- though, if you’re that opposite from each other, I can guess that you don’t get along all that well.”

“oh, we love each other to death, but when you put a pun-master and a pun-hater under the same roof, you can get some pretty disastrous results.”

“I bet. I don’t have siblings- well, I had a brother, but he moved to Canada when I was fifteen and I haven’t seen him since. It was my fault he left, but I don’t know what I could have done.”

You see a fleeting look of what you identify to be anger before he shrugs.

“humans can have… different relationships than monsters. not sayin’ we’re better or anything- i guess when you’re stuck underground for your whole life, you end up closer to the people you’re stuck with. heh, guess it has some perks.” 

“Plus the whole, um, being made out of magic thing. That’s all emotion, right?”

“mostly, yeah. emotion and energy.”

“Oh, yeah.” Oh, come on, you ask yourself. You aren’t seriously pretending to play dumb about magic. Come on!

“What are your other friends like?”

“no fair, i haven’t heard about yours. you first.”

You open your mouth, close it. Open it. Close it. Like a fish out of water.

“I guess in high school I had this sweet friend named Jenny, but, um, she and I didn’t go to the same college. Um. I-I’m a little antisocial, so, a lot of people don’t really like hanging out with me? Heh.”

~~~~~  
Sans can’t call himself the spitting image of mental health by any standards, but he knows one thing that is Very Important. And not just because some guy in a lab coat told him so, but because he’d felt it in practice. Having people around you to talk to and confide in, and to hug you and all that- that’s helped him out of a lot of dark places- at least since monsters made it to the surface. But if you seriously don’t have anyone… then that means he has to introduce you to his friends. He’s not enough for you. Even if he wants to be, even if he wants to keep you all to himself, that’s not what you need. 

“you wanna meet some of my friends? we’re having game night tonight, you could come. we normally play angry monopoly.”

“What’s angry Monopoly?”

“it’s like monopoly, but usually the table is flipped over by the end of the night and play money is everywhere.”

You smile, a little sarcastically. “Sounds fun.”

“give it a chance, you’ll love it. and if it gets overwhelming or something we can just watch a movie in the other room.”

You shrug and nod.

“Sure, okay. What time?”

How hard could this really be?

~~~~~

Hard.

Very, very hard.

There are currently three issues standing between you and game night. One: you have no idea how to make gloves look cute, but you know you have to wear them. This is a social event, and social events stress you out. When you get stressed, you don’t talk about it, because that would be a burden on those around you. And when you bottle things up, you tend to explode. So the gloves are a must.  
Two: you have no idea what to wear, if you need to bring food, if this is something you should dress up for or not, and basically how to prepare for this at all.

Three: your car broke down earlier today, so now you have to ask Sans to pick you up. Which isn’t an obstacle exactly: you just don’t know how to ask, or how he’ll pick you up. 

Did I mention you have to leave in half an hour if you want to make it on time?

“Think logically,” you say to yourself. “It’s game night, so dresses and skirts are out. It’s not a club, so tube tops and miniskirts are out. It’s not just you hanging out alone, though, so no sweatpants. That narrows it down to shorts, jeans, tank tops, and graphic t-shirts. There is also a very small chance you’ll be watching a movie with just Sans, so you want to look cute without looking provocative, because god knows what will happen then.”

That narrows down your options to a loose tank top with “Catpuccino” written on the front, with a graphic of a Starbucks drink with a cat sitting inside, and a pair of gym shorts. It’s perfect: but how are you supposed to make gloves look natural now? 

“Oh!” you say, whipping around and grabbing your zip-up sweatshirt. That will at least make them less noticeable. 

Now, to call Sans about what you need to bring, and ask him to pick you up. You take a deep breath and pick up your phone. At least behind a screen you can sound semi-confident. And it’ll probably be the only time tonight that happens, so you might as well take full advantage of it.

“heya,” he says- he sounds like he’s outside. 

“Hi! Um- my car broke down earlier today, is there any way you can pick me up? I can grab an Uber or something otherwise, if you can’t. I’m so sorry, heh.”

“oh, no prob. my bro’s car broke down too, so he ran. fast runner, plenty energy, all that. i’m just prepping my bike to head down there. you don’t mind riding on back, do ya?”

“Oh-“ -holy crap he has a motorcycle, you’re going to be a biker babe- “that sounds awesome! Uh, I don’t have a helmet or anything, do you have a spare?”

“as a matter of fact, i do. cool. see ya in a minute.”

“Sure!”

When he hangs up, a small burst of confidence washes over you. Yeah! You look cute, you feel cute, you CAN’T be expected to bring food on a bike, and you’re riding behind the biggest, sweetest new friend you’ve got. This is going to be awesome as hell. Who knows? Maybe you can even try a few pick-up lines of your own tonight.

You switch your things from a purse to a backpack so you can hold onto them more easily and head towards the door. Conveniently, you hear a knock just as you get there. That was fast- he must have one killer bike.

~~~~~  
Oh, he is going to get you so hard.

He made sure, on call, to say “bike”, as vaguely as possible. Because who would dare traverse two highways on a trike? No one- except him. One great thing about shortcuts is you can skip all the traffic. And cars. And, well, roads.

Highways are scary, okay?

He can’t wait to see your face when you see it, watch you go from surprised to amused to confused to skeptical. However, when you open the door, he’s struck dumb. You’re… well, after only having ever seen you in hoodies and sweatpants, he thinks he’s going to lose his mind. Shorts, tank top, flip-flops. You look so- he doesn’t want to say bold, because your idea of bold is clearly being able to leave the house in shorts. But you’re trying your best, and he can admire that. 

“h-heya,” he says, grinning. (And realizing he should have probably changed into something else than his usual stuff as well. Oh, whatever.)

“Hey! You ready to go?”

“yup. here- heh, uh, my ride’s out here.”

Back on track Sans, c’mon. He hands you a helmet- it’s not your size, but the inside has plenty of cushy padding to accommodate you, and the strap is adjustable. That much you can appreciate. 

“Thanks- uh-“

He laughs to himself when you notice the monster-sized green tricycle on your driveway, cocking your head like a curious puppy.

“Is it… magic, or something?”

“nah.”

“And… we’re going to ride it… across town?”

“mm-hmm.”

You squint at him, slightly suspicious, and shrug.

“Well, you got here, so I’m assuming you know what you’re doing.”

Sans watches you walk past him, clamber up onto the seat, and pat the spot in front of you so he can drive. Man, you’re smooth. Alright, better give you a show.

“ok, ok, scoot back,” he says, hopping on- you instinctively grab the back of his hoodie so you don’t fall, nervous. If he’s planning to go across two highways with this thing, you’re bound to fall off.

“A-are you sure this is a good idea?”

“if ya think you’re gonna fall off, you can sit up front,” he says, unable to turn and look at you. Your hands on his ribcage, probing slightly at his bones through his jacket… that feels damn nice, actually. So soft…

“Yeah, okay,” you say, pushing off and dropping back down. 

At the little squeeze along his spine, he feels himself break down into purring. He hopes, as you climb back up in front of him, you’ll think it’s some kind of motor. You don’t mention it, at least, which is promising. You scoot back, pull your legs up, situate yourself tightly- his purring just gets stronger as you situate yourself up close, holding slightly onto his legs to balance yourself. Oh, he could get used to this.

“you good, blueberry?”

You squint and turn around to look at him.

“What?”

“oh- blueberry. heh, guess i started calling ya that in my head. that sound ok?”

Those eyes, your love for the fruit, your love for the color blue, your little roundness and dimples, it all seems to fit. He thinks it’s perfect, but he was going to spring it on you at some other point. Welp.

“Oh. Yeah, it’s cute,” you say, trying to rub the blush off your face with your shoulder.

“wanted a nickname to match ya,” he chuckles, starting to pedal. “k, so, hold on really tight to somethin’ when i say so, ok? it’ll feel weird for a minute, you might need to close your eyes or hold your breath or somethin’.”

He can’t risk you falling off on some busy street, far as he wanted to take this joke. A helmet can’t protect all of you, and neither can he. A shortcut will feel much better, even if he runs the risk of making you feel a little sick afterwards.

“you ready?” he asks, flipping his visor down as a hill approaches- lazybones, letting gravity do his work for him. 

A small scream builds up in your throat as you pick up speed, and it gets worse when Sans instinctively wraps an arm around your front, in case you fly off. 

“hold your breath, close your eyes, hold tight,” he says, finally using both hands to hold you. He sucks in a breath when your hands grab his leg-bones tightly, tightly enough to feel your soft fingertips straight through the fabric of his shorts.

*blip*

~~~~~

Defenestrate- v. to throw someone or something out a window.  
Alternate definition: what you did to your dignity just now.

You grabbed his thighs. Well, sort of. He has thigh-bones, maybe? You probably should have paid more attention in anatomy. But you could tell, (after getting over the shock of nearly flying down a hill to your death, and appearing someplace else out of nowhere) that Sans was a blushing mess. Which, normally, unlike you, he is not. 

And though you’d tried to stutter out some sort of apology, he said it was fine, your hands are small, you didn’t hurt him or anything. That wasn’t what you were trying to apologize for, but he clearly doesn’t want to hear it. Whatever- you have the rest of the night to try and charm that right off your record.

“B-but- how did we get here…?” you ask, still a bit windswept. This is definitely not your neighborhood anymore.

“magic,” he shrugs. “probably shoulda specified what i was up to. sorry, berry.”

“Oh, we’re shortening it to ‘berry’ now, are we?” you say, grinning.

“guess. c’mon, i’m lazy, extra syllables are so much work.”

“Lazy?”

“lazybones, actually,” he puns, pulling off your helmet and shooting you some finger guns. You roll your eyes good-naturedly.

“Should have guessed, honestly.”

Only when your hands reach up to smooth out your puffy cloud of hair does he notice the thin, grey gloves. He can recognize the material on sight. It was, at least back in the Underground, a sort of anti-flame fabric. Popular among fire elementals who didn’t want their clothes bursting into flames on contact. Why do you have them? Is that human fashion?

“why’ve you got the gloves?”

You pale significantly and stick your hands in your pockets. 

“Why not?”

“dunno. human thing?”

~~~~~  
Oh, YOU WISH all humans had to do this. That would at least make your plight slightly normal. 

“Yeah.”

“cool.”

He parks the bike in a driveway and jabs a thumb towards the house. It looks like a giant, angry fish… with anime eyes?

“this is alphys’ and undynes’ place. they moved in together a few weeks ago, i told you about ‘em, right?”

“Undyne, but not much about Alphys. Just that they’re a couple,” you shrug. 

“i think you’ll like alph. she’s sweet.”

As you walk up towards the door, Sans says, in a low voice-

“and tell me if it gets to be too much, alright? they can get pretty excited, or awkward, and sometimes that makes things hard. i’ll try to rescue you if it’s too bad, heh.”

“Oh- thanks. I think I’ll be fine, though, it’s only the five of us, right?”

“tori and frisk are coming in an hour, but they’re usually pretty chill.”

“Frisk is human, right?”

“yup.”

The door suddenly flies open abruptly- a TALL fish woman (who you’re pretty sure is Undyne) is standing there, looking aggressively excited. You barely come up to her hip…

“Hey, nerds!! You’re Clara, right? Sup!”

You smile timidly and manage to stutter out a hello, while Sans just casually nods like this happens all the time. You have to assume it actually does, which you find hilarious.

“Well, don’t just STAND there! C’mon, we just finished making cheese dip and shit, you should have something! I’m Undyne, by the way, punk.”

“alright, alright, take it easy,” Sans shrugs, following her in. You follow him, shutting the huge door behind you.

You’ve never been in a monster house before. It reminds you of being a little toddler, unable to reach the tops of counters or tables, having to run and jump to get into chairs. It’s all monster sized. Sans looks at you and snickers, seeing exactly what you’re seeing. And, the best part is, he’s one of the shorter monsters in the room. 

The smell in here is of sushi, salt, and something warm, like honey. It’s all a flashing mix of green and yellow and gold, so much sensory overload you can barely see for a moment. That’s probably because of the scent marker thing you read about. Each monster has a distinct smell- like humans, but to a greater extent- so monsters with bad magic recognition can tell individuals in a similar-looking species apart. Like Froggits, for example. But to someone with your already heightened sense of smell, it’s enough to make you sway on your feet.

So when Papyrus runs in, you’re nearly knocked to the floor. Between height and smell, obvious enthusiasm and constant movement, you’re fairly sure you need to sit down. When he sees you, you can see the little glimmers of enthusiasm in his eyesockets. (Or maybe that’s the white dots in your vision, at this point.) He sticks out a hand, bending over slightly to reach you. 

“HELLO, HUMAN! I’VE BEEN VERY ANXIOUS TO MEET YOU! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS!!”

Oh, WOW, that’s loud. You naturally dislike loud sounds, but he just seems too sweet to be annoyed at…

“Hello,” you squeak, smiling a little. “I’m Clara…” 

Your little smile is met tenfold, and you shake his hand. He literally lifts you off your feet with as hard as he shakes it- and when he hurriedly lets go mid-air, you go flying backwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see you guys in a couple days thennnn


	4. Sprains, Screw Ups, and Other Delightful Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I have no happy medium between comedy, depression, and fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the happy birthday wishes  
> I got a family sized bag of Hersheys kisses  
> which, I regret to inform any hopeful family members, is not family sized  
> it is "one determined little person and a week of writing" sized  
> there's tiny foil wrappers everywhere

Sans doesn’t know much human slang, but he has one word locked in that he finds completely and utterly hilarious. “Yeet”. It supposedly isn’t even a real word. A bunch of kids made it up, and consequently an entire country- maybe even a continent- started using it. Which, honestly, is the funniest origin story for a word he’s ever heard.

So, allow me to describe you a scene:

Papyrus flings you into the air, and at least two people in the room started screaming. You, obviously, being one of them. Later, you’d find out Alphys was the other one. But, as you go sailing through the air, Sans has two, very conflicting, thoughts.

The first being, “oh, shit”,

And the second being, “YEET”. 

So, as he caught you, teleporting to being in the right place in time, he was laughing really hard. 

You look up at him, confused-

“Did you just say yeet?”

Sans starts laughing harder- oh, he said it out LOUD, too.

~~~~~  
You’re half-glaring at Sans as he laughs and holds you- though, frankly, you find it hilarious, you’re honestly concerned Papyrus pulled your arm out of its socket. Seriously. It really hurts. But you can fix that when you get home, google always knows how to fix things like this. 

You feel your eyes get warm, and you have to take a few deep breaths. Not tonight, anything but tonight… thank god you brought your gloves.

Sans starts to put you down and Papyrus hurriedly apologizes for both his and his brother’s behavior, and that it won’t happen again. You wince when you move your shoulder, but smile and nod. you’ll make it through tonight no matter how much pain it puts you through, you swear that much. 

“you ok?” Sans asks, softly, once everyone finally disperses to get snacks and set up Monopoly. You look up suddenly (which consequently causes your shoulder to throb) and smile-

“Yeah, uh-huh, totally!”

He looks at you dubiously, and you wilt a little.

“I mean, kind of, but I can fix it at home, it’s no problem.”

“blueberry, i think my brother just broke your arm, and you’re seriously trying to tell me it’s fine… out of courtesy.”

You squint- it does sound kind of bad for you when he puts it that way…

“when tori gets here she can try healing it- she’s better with that kinda thing than me- but how ‘bout you just lay down for a bit?”

“I want to meet everyone, though…”

“we’ll come sit by you, then.”

“Are you su-“

“positive. c’mon, i’ll gotcha over there.”

He hefts you up into his arms, holding you to him gently, being sure not to touch your arm. You find that you like the way his hands feel on your back. He’s rubbing little circles on you with his fingertips until he gets to the couch, and you almost complain when he sets you down. 

“i’ll go grab some snacks, k? be right back.”

~~~~~  
Sans feels his soul singing as he waltzes back over to grab some food and drinks. You’re just as soft as he thought you’d be, and you were holding onto his jacket, and you leaned into all his little touches. I mean, he never thought he’d be the type of guy to know what he’s doing, but maybe he’s got moves! Who the hell knows? 

Now he just has to get you some food and fix up your shoulder, and tonight should plan out perfectly. Poor blueberry, getting banged up… oh, right, Papyrus must feel terrible. Speaking of him, he runs up when Sans walks in the kitchen, anxiety glowing in his eyesockets.

“SANS OH MY GOSH I CAN’T BELIEVE MYSELF I THREW HER IN THE AIR AND SHE’S HURT NOW OH MY GOSH I MUST HAVE MADE SUCH A BAD FIRST IMPRESSION-“

“hey, calm down, ’s fine. tori’ll fix her up when she gets here, clara can hold on for forty-five minutes. wanna start a practice round until then? we can bring it to the living room so she doesn’t have to get up.”

Paps nods, putting his hands on his hips-

“YOU’RE RIGHT! WE’LL JUST HAVE TO CATER TO HER UNTIL TORIEL AND THE SMALLER HUMAN CAN GET HERE! NOW, UNDYNE, WHERE ARE THOSE TINY GLASSES, MAYBE THAT WOULD WORK…”

Undyne passes Papyrus a monster-sized shot glass, which he cleans out and fills with some crushed ice and water. Sans, meanwhile, just grabs the other snacks and carries them into the other room. You’ll be fine, even if one chip is the size of your face. In fact, you might find this pretty cool.

Luckily for him, that’s just the case.

~~~~~

You find yourself actually really well taken care of. Plenty of food, a small-ish glass of water- and free refills the second Papyrus hears a sipping noise- a comfortable couch, pillows to prop you up. They even let you pick out the piece you wanted to be in Monopoly. (The boat, in your opinion, is the best option every time.)

What you find great is, despite all the wonderful “monster sized” accommodations, the Monopoly board is normal. In comparison to Undyne, for example, the itty-bitty pieces look microscopic. And what’s even better is, despite the clear competitiveness at play here, nobody knows how GOOD you are at Monopoly. You’ve never lost. So you lay low, don’t brag, and let everyone focus on beating each other while you steadily gain ground.

Sans is picking up on what you’re doing and trying to beat you, but by the time he fully turns his sights on you, you already have a solid side of the board. 

~~~~~

It’s death row on Clara’s side of the board, Sans thinks, grinning inwardly. You’re holding your own, you have solid strategy, and no cocky demeanor. Undyne is picking up to what’s going on- tables will flip soon. But now he’s going to try. Everything fades slightly in his head, save for you and the game. He’s going to put up a fight, and, god, who knows. Maybe you have a thing for guys who can beat you at Monopoly. At least he’ll give it a shot. 

“that’ll be 300 bucks,” he smirks, holding out a hand. You smack your play money into it with the same amount of viciousness as if it were real.

A few turns later, though, it’s your turn to hold out your hand.

“That’s… well, there’s a house on it… 800?”

He grumbles, laughing, and fiddles through his cash pile. 

A tiny, selfish part of him wishes you weren’t so comfortable right now, so you could watch that movie, and he could have you all to himself… but, no, if you’re happy, he’s happy. You’ll give him the ride home, which he’s considering actually taking instead of shortcutting. Feeling you pressed up in front of him was a rush. 

…

He hopes you like him.

Undyne suddenly flips the table, bringing him back to reality with your scream of surprise. He instinctively leans a little towards you- as if he could shield some sort of blow with his body- but nothing even comes your way. However, he stays frozen there while Undyne groans and apologizes, starting to search for the pieces. 

“Um, Sans?”

He feels a little tug on his hoodie, and he leans back apologetically.

“heh, uh, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine… uh, could I go to the bathroom?”

“oh, yeah, totally. you need help movin’, or are you good?”

You shake your head “no”, then hop off the couch, cradling your still-throbbing shoulder. He watches you go, wondering vaguely why you look so guilty.

~~~~~  
This will only work if the bathroom here has a window and a countertop. But you have to try.

You have certain… triggers. Breaking things, crash noises, those sort of things, make you twitchy. An entire monster-sized table flying into the air in front of you nearly gave you a heart attack. Which, consequently, made your skin get hot, and the place behind your eyes start to throb, and your hands burn under your gloves. 

They still are. If not for the gloves, they probably would have caught fire by now. 

And, you can’t possibly ASK to go home, that would make them feel guilty for something that was obviously your fault. You’re just a freak who can’t take a little jumpscare, you don’t want them to feel guilty about anything… but maybe that’s just your anxiety talking. Who cares, it doesn’t change your plan.

You frown at the slightly-too-tall counter, and the window facing towards the front yard. It has blinds, but you can fix that. Taking a running start, you jump up onto the counter, making sure not to leave dirt or scuff marks with your shoes. You are a guest, after all. Then, it’s as simple as pulling the blinds, popping open the window, and crawling out.

And then falling.   
Onto your jacked-up shoulder.  
You black out for a minute. 

When you wake up, there’s a tall goat-lady in a dress kneeling over you, and a small child petting your hair nervously.

~~~~~  
Sans looks down at you on the couch, feeling like the worst f*cking soulmate ever.

You were a lot more hurt than you let on, for one. Which, for a guy who lies about how he feels all the time, should have been easy to detect. Especially with YOU. But, no. You also, apparently, had tried climbing out the window in the bathroom, with plans to get a Uber home and let him know once you were there. You had tried climbing out of a monster-sized window on a broken shoulder. Because you were anxious about being around him and his friends, and something had set you off.

At this point, as you stutter and try to explain why you’d done this, he’s fairly convinced it’s his fault, leaning over and getting in your personal space. Though you privately admit it was the table flipping over, he doesn’t believe you. 

“I-it’s really fine,” you say, face burning up. Toriel is settled next to you, healing your shoulder. Frisk, the kid, is cuddled up to your side, trying to be sure that you’re alright. Papyrus and Alphys are focused on propping you up in pillows and getting you more water. Undyne is apologizing profusely, telling you that she had no idea that would scare you as much as it did. Sans is just sitting on the end of the couch and just, making sure you’re okay with everything. 

At the very least, you look a little sleepier now. Maybe you’ll get some rest. Maybe he can carry you home, with an excuse to see your house. Your room. Your bed. Curl up with you, his jacket on your back, letting you rest. Making sure you’re never anxious again. 

But all that’s wishful thinking, isn’t it.

Even after you do fall asleep on the couch, it would be way too invasive to go into your house without your permission. You’ll invite him over someday, with some luck. And it will be worth the wait, he’s sure. Better than risking breaking your trust. Toriel turns to him once you’re peacefully sleeping, rolled over on your side with Frisk pressed close to you.

“Sans, I must ask how you know this human, and how they got this injury. It is much too serious for it to be from the fall from the window, though that surely may have made it worse.”

“uh…” he lowers his voice so Undyne and Alphys don’t hear. “found her the other day- she’s my soulmate, but she doesn’t know that yet.”

Her eyes go wide, and she smiles.

“Oh, goodness! I’m so proud, I told you it was possible for anyone, did I not?”

“yeah, yeah… i just… i don’t know what to do now. i was supposed to be winning her over before i told her, and then at that point she’d be into it already and it would just help move things along. y’know? and, well, this all feels kinda weird, because i’ve never had to this before. but. i can’t just. NOT.”

Tori nods.

“Once you’ve found your soulmate, leaving them would make you feel incomplete. Trust me, I would know. So I think it is wise- your plan, that is- but you seem to have… taken a step in the wrong direction… by exposing her to all of us at once,” she says, giggling slightly. “You know it can get rather chaotic when we all get together. And if she has such bad anxiety, it might be wise to just have her over to your house alone a few times- or better yet, go to hers.”

“yeah, uh, i know i screwed up. ‘m just tryna fix it.”

“Of course. How did she get this injury in the first place, anyhow?”

“well-“

(“IT WAS MY FAULT,”) Papyrus cuts in in a whisper-shout. (“I SHOOK HER HAND TOO HARD AND IT LIFTED HER INTO THE AIR AND THEN I GOT SCARED AND I LET GO SO I WOULDN’T DO IT ANYMORE AND SHE FLEW UP AND THEN SANS CAUGHT HER, WHICH WAS ACTUALLY VERY SMOOTH OF HIM, BUT STILL.”)

Frisk is hiding giggles so as not to wake you- that much, Sans can appreciate. He knows the kid can be a gigglebox, and Papyrus’ Dramatic Stories don’t help much. Heh, outside of context, if it didn’t have any consequences, it might actually be pretty funny. But that’s just not how it played out. Toriel shoots them a look and they quiet their snickering. 

“Frisk, this is serious, and she is trying to sleep, the poor thing.” She turns back to Papyrus, who droops sadly. “Papyrus, I can understand your enthusiasm at meeting a new friend, but humans and monsters are different. Monsters can roughhouse with one another, and humans can roughhouse with one another, because it is fair. But humans are smaller and more delicate than us, however strong they are. So roughhousing with a human, even unintentionally, can have consequences. So please, my friend, be careful with her.”

He nods enthusiastically, looking serious and determined. It’s Sans’ turn to give a little laugh under his breath. That is, until Toriel looks at him with the same stern face.

“And that goes for you too.”

He sighs and nods, resigned. 

What he didn’t consider is he might have to keep you safe from yourself. 

~~~~~

When you wake up, you’re wrapped up in a blanket, laying on something leather-feeling, swaying gently. There’s a hand rubbing your back, stroking your hair back, exploring gently. You know it’s Sans, by the smell around you, but you don’t know where you are. However, at the moment, you couldn’t care less. This feels really good, and you trust him not to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. 

“how close are we?” you hear him ask softly.

A woman’s voice comes from in front of you. Toriel, her name was?

“Only five minutes away. Is she still asleep?”

Sans rubs your arm in a ‘wake up’ way. You give a soft noise of discomfort, not wanting to move. You just want to stay here.

“think she’s wakin’ up. hey, blueberry, we’re bringin’ ya home. can ya wake up for us?”

You blink open your eyes and take in your surroundings. You’re in a car, monster-sized, of course. You’re laid out along the seats, head in Sans’ lap, and were (apparently) asleep this entire time. You nod, giving another whine of discomfort.

“Ugh, I don’t wanna go home… I like it here…”

“you want me to help you in?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“k. you can go back to sleep now, i’ll carry you in.”

“Okay.”

And you drift off again.

~~~~~  
Sans’ chest feels like it can’t hold his soul anymore. It’s too big, too excited, singing too loudly in comparison to your soft whisper of a song. You said you wanted to stay with him, you didn’t want to go home. You’ve been leaning into all his rubs and scratches and strokes for a while now, too- and you seem to like it.

It’s only been a week and a half, but… he’s never wanted anything more in his life than to be close to you as he can. And now, it can start to happen. And that’s what scares him a little, that he actually has a chance. He can’t afford not to care because it turned out to be impossible, because it is possible: so he can’t give up. He’s just so close.

How are you going to take this? His whole life, that is. He’s friends with a practical god of time, if you want to look at it that way. He has a questionable past, at best. He has to teach you to hold him at arms length, because if he’s ever ripped away from you, he can’t let you remember. If you remember… you would be so hurt. He has to teach you about his “condition”. ‘’1 HP’ is just another way to say, “don’t get close to me, because you could lose me at any second.”

He feels himself drifting to a very bad place, his breaths coming jagged and wrong. You need someone better than him, you need someone who can protect you, someone you won’t remember, someone confident and strong and capable. You don’t need to get caught up in everything he’s involved in. In ANYTHING he’s involved in. His constant fight with the universe causes everything he touches to fall to shit.

“Are you okay, my friend?” Tori says from the front, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“fine,” he says, quietly, trying to breathe properly again.

“Are you being honest with me? You are not nervous for her, are you? She just needs some rest and good food. We can bring her breakfast tomorrow, if you would like. Just me and Frisk and you.”

He sighs quietly, pets your head, and nods.

“think i’d like that.”

You press your head into his hand, and he’s surprised to hear a soft purr build in his chest. 

~~~~~

The next thing you’re conscious of is being placed on something soft and cool. No, not cool, cold. Cold is lonely. Warm means you’re comfortable, that there’s someone there for you. You whine and try to push away from it, only to fall back into a warm thing. It’s not as soft, but you feel better there, so you hold on.

“you gotta let go, blueberry, you gotta sleep.”

“No…” you mumble. “Stay here for a minute…”

The warmth against you tenses- 

“can i?”

You hear a soft rustle of fabric, and, though you assume he must be talking to someone else, you pull harder.

“Yeah… c’mon…”

A pause, and then you feel yourself lowered once again onto the cold softness. As tired and disoriented as you are, you think you might cry. But then you feel a deep dip in the mattress on one side of you, and you feel yourself pulled close to something- someONE- very warm.

“only for a minute, berry, ok? i gotta go home, y’know. now try to go to sleep.”

You sigh contentedly and wrap the blankets around you and your little heater. A soft sigh meets yours, and the last thing you hear before it all blacks out is,

“sweet dreams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> snug  
> see ya on the ninth


	5. Highs and Lows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic attacks were never good for your system.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter~  
> i promise it'll be worth it

His. His. You’re his, and he’s yours, and you’ll hold onto that for as long as you can.   
Waves of blue- navy blue, almost black, but NOT. NOT black. Never. Just blue. Deep, deep blue. You wrap the color around you like a blanket, drawing the delicious smell of it in. It’s black coffee, vanilla, earth smell. It’s warm. Warmth is safety. Warmth is comfort. Warmth means you aren’t alone.  
There is an endless expanse of warmth. There are fields of blue. There are hard, gentle hands exploring your face, curious and kind. There is warmth radiating your lips, your cheeks, your hair, your hands. For once, you aren’t afraid of the gathering heat. You don’t fumble for your gloves. What are gloves? There’s nothing here but dirt and blue and warm.

You wake up slowly, but your heart is racing. The feeling of being pulled from that reality isn’t jarring… it’s slow, and coaxing, like trying to draw a turtle out of its shell. A soft smile is playing on your lips, even after the feelings of your dream fade… But the scent remains, strong as if Sans were here. Was he here? Or was that just your dream? You can’t remember. 

Reality and dreams are oddly blended right now. 

Your fingers trail up to find the source of the scent, and land on a jacket. It’s not the shade of blue you think it ought to be, which is annoying. You think it should match the smell-color. But you don’t mind. Pressing your nose to it yields overwhelming results: you can barely see for blue. So it was his… you think. Was it a dream? Is this a dream? It doesn’t feel real.

Your mind starts to focus on that. Sans, right? Yesterday. He invited you to that thing. With his friends, and angry Clue. No, no, it wasn’t Clue. Monopoly? You don’t remember who won. You remember a bit about hurting your arm, and Sans catching you. Right, that happened. But, did it? It all feels like one long dream. How did you meet him?

You feel your chest start to hurt, and your hands get hot. Maybe he’s not real. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve woken up from a detailed dream. And, well, his sweatshirt is still here, but… maybe you’re still asleep. He isn’t real, is he? It’s some stupid thing your mind made up to convince you that someone actually loves you. Stupid, stupid…

Your hands catch fire, blue fire, instantly burning your skin. You don’t cry out, or scream: that never goes over well with the neighbors. You just cry, curled up, holding them away from you so you don’t burn the rest of you. The smell of burning skin fills the room, like it always does, making you want to gag. It will pass, eventually, it always does. But it hurts.

You know it’s your fault. You and your stupid dreams. 

~~~~~  
Toriel rings the doorbell: no response.

“Maybe she is still asleep,” she considers. “It would be good for her, really, after the night she’s had. You still have the key, do you not? We can let ourselves in, I’m sure.”

“m-hm.”

Frisk is bouncing up and down a little. After overhearing what they have about Sans’ soulmate, they’re excited to see her again. When she’s not asleep, that is. Sans passes the key to her, and she opens the door. Lucky for them, you don’t have an alarm.

But Sans, almost INSTANTLY after crossing the threshold into the house, feels anxious. Something’s wrong. His head snaps up when he hears the water running in the kitchen, and a muffled yell. It sounds like a gag, if he’s ever heard one. He’s past Toriel and Frisk in a second, if someone is hurting you in ANY way he is going to invert their ribcages for them-

But… it’s just you, alone. You’re standing over the sink. The first thing he notices is the white towel stuffed in your mouth, that you seem to be gasping and yelling around. Why would you be… and then he sees your hands, held gingerly under the stream of water. As it washes over them, blood and water pour into the sink. He can already smell it. Your hands are burned. VERY burned. The last thing he notices is his hoodie, hanging nearly to your ankles, the too-big sleeves burned at the ends.

“b-berry…” he says, frozen in the entrance to the kitchen.

You look up suddenly, see him, and immediately tears start falling. You drop the gag out of your mouth and whisper,

“You’re here?”

“god, what the f*ck happened to you?” he asks, coming forward and hugging you. You whimper and press back into him, being careful not to let your hands touch him.   
“you’re… no, no, you’re alright, i’m here, i’m right here, it’ll be ok… tori!”

But she’s already there, kneeling and taking your hands. 

~~~~~  
Now the three of you are on the floor in the kitchen, Toriel shaking with the exertion of using this much healing magic, you having entirely given yourself over to it. Sans has you in his lap, on crossed legs, murmuring sweet nothings to you to try and calm your racing heart. He rubs a gentle circle with his hand on your spine, trying to give you something to focus on. You’re shaking and crying, so broken it hurts him. 

He has a distinct feeling that he failed.  
But he doesn’t know what he could possibly have done.

“I-I-I thought y-you g-g-guys w-were a d-dream, an-and, and I-I-“ you collapse again, and he presses you closer.

“blueberry, we’re real. i promise. we’re… we’re right here, we’re always gonna be here. we’ll take care of you. just relax, ok? you’re not dreamin’.”

You force yourself to breathe, your shoulders to go limp, your head to fall onto Sans’ ribcage with an exhausted ‘pat’. 

“yeah… good, you’re doin’ so good… shh… we’ve got you.”

His soul aches. Who hurt you? Did you hurt yourself? Pain this bad would surely not be worth it… maybe someone is forcing you to do this, you looked like you’d done it before. The towel and everything. He will kick ASS if he finds out someone is harming you. A fleeting image comes into his head of someone forcing you to press your hands to a stovetop, or in a fire. Holding you there for minutes on end, while you scream for someone to help you. His breaths come faster with anger.

You whisper again, softer, in his arms, and he nuzzles the crown of your head. He can’t even turn his thoughts to getting you to love him until this is solved. Hurting his baby. His berry. 

“who did this?” he asks, in a voice lower and scarier than he intended.

“M-me… it was an accident… burned myself…”

At least that’s true, you think to yourself. 

“how do you accidentally give yourself a- what is this, a third degree burn?”

You don’t speak. He knows you’re hiding something: an abuser is what worries him. Is that why you wear gloves? To hide old burns? 

“if someone is hurting you, you have to tell us, we can’t let you keep getting hurt like th-“

“I don’t talk about it, okay? It’s- it’s normal, I just, deal with it. It just happens. it’s just me, nobody’s hurting me.”

He wishes he could believe you.

~~~~~

“BROTHER, YOU AVE BEEN STARING AT YOUR CEREAL FOR TEN MINUTES NOW, WHAT IS WRONG?” Papyrus asks, waving a hand in front of Sans’ face. “IS IT ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED WITH YOU AND CLARA YESTERDAY?”

“eh.”

Papyrus squints at him for a minute, sighs, and takes the bowl, starting to eat it himself. Sans does nothing to stop him. 

(His sweatshirt smells like your smell, plus blood. It doesn't help him with his flashbacks. He keeps wishing you’d let him keep it with you.)

“…I JUST STOLE YOUR FOOD, SANS.”

He looks up, sighs.

“yeah, uh- sorry. little distracted. just not hungry.”

This is a thing with them: when Sans was in low, low places when they first came to the surface, he would sometimes forget to eat for long periods of time. So Papyrus always has to differentiate whether his brother is sad or just not hungry. With that in mind, he sighs and sits down across from him, still eating the cereal.

“IF YOU CAN BE HONEST WITH ME ON THE BASIC QUESTIONS, I’LL LET YOU WORM YOUR WAY OUT OF THE MORE COMPLICATED ONES.”

Despite feeling a tad guilty about that, Sans can’t deny its a good idea.

“shoot.”

“IS SHE SAFE?”

“’s far as i know.”

“IS SHE STILL SERIOUSLY INJURED?”

“nah, tori seemed to heal her up fine.”

“DID SHE HAVE A PANIC ATTACK OR A NIGHTMARE?”

“a panic attack, i think.”

“IS SHE ANGRY WITH YOU?”

“don’t think so, no.”

“DO YOU THINK SHE IS FINE NOW?”

Sans frowns slightly.

“i mean, she seemed kind of in a better place when we left… just don’t like leaving her alone. she, uh. she reminds me of me, if i didn’t have you. you know, if i didn’t have someone lookin’ out for me. i don’t know what’s gonna happen to her. especially not after last night.”

Papyrus sits back a little and takes a few seconds to take that in.

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED?”

“she told me it’s normal, and she doesn’t wanna talk about it. it’s selfish to say this, but i feel like i can’t handle knowing that. if i don’t know what it is, and how i can make it STOP, i don’t know if i can hang out with her normally. she’s BURNING herself, that’s not normal. i mean, cutting yourself is one thing, right? but… burning your hands, regularly… why? i think it would kill me to see her in that much pain again, i can’t imagine how she must feel.” 

“THEN… AND I KNOW THIS WILL SOUND TERRIBLY HARSH… WHY DON’T YOU JUST, FORCE IT? NOT IN A PHYSICAL WAY, JUST, PRESSURE. IT WILL BE DIFFICULT, I IMAGINE, BUT AFTERWARDS YOU WILL BE ABLE TO HELP HER.”

“i can’t.”

“WHY?”

“i want her to trust me. i don’t want to force her into anything.”

“OKAY, FAIR. COULD YOU TRY TO CATCH HER WHEN IT HAPPENS?”

“i guess, but i don’t know if there are patterns.”

“UM… YOU COULD HANG OUT WITH HER MORE AT HER HOUSE, AND SEE IF YOU CAN FIND ANYTHING OUT. LIKE A SPY?”

God, he’d feel so guilty faking hanging out to look for your secrets. It sounds so terrible that way. 

“i… i just… i can’t… i just need to know she’s ok.”

A silence. Paps stands, picks Sans up, and hugs him tightly.

“You’re sad,” he says, softly. “You know I hate it when you get sad.”

“i just… i just…”

“I understand. When you love someone, you need to know that they’re happy.”

Sans starts shaking, and Papyrus carries him to the couch, where they stay hugging for a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see ya on the 13th


	6. Dating: Start!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After yesterday's snafu, you've decided it might be best to go away for a while.  
> Anybody else stress-bake?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!! sorry I didn't put this up yesterday, the site was glitching out on me :/
> 
> this is like my second favorite chapter  
> also uh  
> I don't know if this fits in the smut category or what  
> but it doesn't go past kisses so
> 
> heh

After the fiasco that happened yesterday, you feel like you need to do something to compensate. 

Your stupid panic attack, and breakdown, and how scared everyone is about your burns. You have Toriel’s number now, too, along with Sans, for if you need anything. You knew it was inevitable that they would find out about your messed- up-ness, but you thought you at least had a little more calm before the storm. They keep asking you if you’re okay, over the phone, over text. 

You don’t respond. They can’t help you. Sans has asked to see you a few times, but you just ignore it. You know you’re going to have to do something eventually. So you’ve been, well; baking. 

It’s… getting kind of out of hand, if we’re being entirely honest. 

Every time you make something, you do it with the intention of bringing it to Sans the next day. But then… you just, you know, don’t do that. So, currently, you have roughly a hundred chocolate chip cookies, seventy-two muffins, a chocolate layer cake with floral patterned icing, and a rather shitty attempt at macaroons.

Your longest consecutive time sleeping over the past three days has been thirty minutes, and that only worked with twenty milligrams of melatonin in your system. You would give your left leg to get some good sleep. 

Now, you know this isn’t healthy: and not just because the lack of sleep is giving you odd hallucinations and the occasional fit of tears. Your magic resets when you sleep: it leaves, so to speak. It relaxes. And when it relaxes, your energy levels go down. And you can sleep. A peaceful cycle. But without sleep, you’re essentially shaking up a soda can.

Too much energy. Too much pressure. Not a strong enough can.  
BANG.  
You try to let some gentle magic seep into your cookies, hoping nobody will notice if the batter feels a little sparky on the tongue.

~~~~~

Sans is staring at his phone. It’s three in the goddamn morning, and he can’t sleep, again.

You’re baking feverishly. It’s three in the goddamn morning. You should NOT be up right now. You thought after getting rid of some of your bottled-up magic, you could sleep, but lying in bed for two hours yielded no results. 

He wonders if you’re awake. The books did say, while under periods of stress, being away from your soulmate can have… negative effects. Like sleep deprivation. He honestly wouldn’t be too surprised if you were staring at YOUR phone right now. Worth a shot.

You jump when your phone rings on the counter. Do telemarketers stay up this late? You put down the flour, brush it off on your pants, and go to check- why the hell is Sans calling you this late? ‘Answer’.

“Sans, why are you calling me at three in the morning?” you ask. Well, at least you picked up the phone. 

“couldn’t sleep. um, you too?” You let that hang there for a moment, unsure if you’re willing to answer honestly. 

“. . .Yeah. Well, um… do you need something, or…”

“nah. just wanted to talk,” he says hurriedly.

“Is this about the burn thing? Because I promise that that was just an accident, it doesn’t even happen that often, you don’t need to worry about me.” Yeah, right. It’s not like you literally got third degree burns and sobbed for an hour and a half. You’re just PEACHY.

“i- i mean, no, but i do wanna get past that eventually.”

“As in right now eventually?”

“as in right now eventually, if you’ll keep talking to me.”

“I’m not sure I could stop talking to you. So, well, whaddya got?” Kinda harsh tone, but you DID say that you’re not sure you could ever stop talking to him, and you ARE hearing him out.

“so- how long has it been happening?”

Your end of the line goes quiet for a minute, save but for your breathing. 

“clara?”

“Yeah. Uh- a while.”

“ok. you said it was involuntary, nobody’s forcin’ you to do it.”

“Right.”

“and… you’re alright?”

(No.) “Yes.”

“and, will you call me or tori if it happens again so we can heal you up? i can do it, i’m just slower.”

You consider that for a moment before answering.

“Aren’t there professional healers? I don’t want you to waste energy if you need it for more important stuff.”

“pro monster healers work in hospitals, but you’ll have to explain how you got your injury there, and it costs a crap ton of money.”

“And… human healers?” you dare to ask.

“heh. humans with magic are long gone, berry. last humans with magic were the ones who shoved our asses in the underground. jerks.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, thankful he can’t see you cringe. That hurt.

“Okay, you can do it… only if you don’t ask about it anymore, about how it happens. I’ll try to get ahold of you.”

“deal.”

Another pause. Sans works up his courage and finally, very coaxingly, asks:

“can i come over there? just, to see ya? you don’t know how much i’ve missed you.”

“Sans, you’ve only known me for, like, five days, give or take the time I haven’t seen you.”  
“guess you’re just that great, huh?”

“. . .You can come over.”

~~~~~

You used to watch horror movies as a kid, right? You would always ask your parents to lock the doors and windows, check your bed and closet, leave both of your nightlights on. (…Okay, looking back, you were a coward. Who gave you access to horror movies, anyway?) What I’m trying to say is, when a literal six foot skeleton materializes in the center of your kitchen, you nearly shit your pants.

“OHmygod-“ you yelp, scrambling backwards into a counter.

Sans puts both hands up in front of him apologetically, eyesockets going wide-

“hey, hey, ‘sjust me. sorry, shoulda warned ya. you good?”

Once you get over your heart having skipped a beat, you sigh and nod.

“Yeah, uh- warn me next time, please.”

“yeah. sorry.”

Now that that’s over… you look around at your half-finished baking project and the various snacks around you, suddenly self-conscious. This is so weird…

“you’ve been busy, huh?” he quips, seemingly unbothered by it. 

“I was planning on bringing some to you, but… you know,” you say quietly. 

“heh. that’s sweet,” he says. He wasn’t even trying to make a pun that time, but it pulls a small smile out of you nonetheless. You feel so bittersweet that he’s here. Nice, but… something’s missing.

“Okay: can we start over a little bit? Just… from Saturday night. When you dropped me off. I remember that.” 

A soft blue blush creeps up in his face, and he nods. He turns, leaning against the counter across from you.

“ok. uh… you were really comfy?”

That makes you blush a little, giving an awkward laugh.

“So were you. Haven’t slept that well in years.”

He chuckles- “me, neither.”

An awkward silence. You finally murmur,

“I mean, everything aside, I’m sorry it’s going so fast. I’ve only known you a couple of days. I just… really trust you, for some reason, I dunno. It’s not normal for me. Confused, you know? I don’t want to mess you up or something.”

“and i want you to mess me up. trust me when i say you cannot possibly be more messed up in the head than me. and if you are, i’ve got no right to judge. you couldn’t make me any worse.”

“It’s not like that. I could hurt you. I mean- not intentionally.”

“so could i.”

You don’t have a comeback for that, so you focus on hopping up onto the counter while you “pretend to think of one”. Luckily, Sans speaks again first. 

“just… let it be. ‘m not usually a desperate kinda guy, i go with whatever, y’know? but, you’re so- just- don’t leave me hanging. i’ve never felt better than when i’m with you.”

That makes you stare at your knees- he crosses to you, sits on the counter beside you, and pulls you into a one-armed hug. 

“i want you to mess me up so bad i never come back from it, heh.”

That makes you stutter nervously, and your mouth gets dry. You’re pulled to his side, both hands wringing nervously in front of you, his hand around your waist. You don’t move to move it. He gently reaches down and takes one of your shaking hands, stilling it.

“and i want to be next to you if it means we both become something else.”

You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back, before looking up at him.  
Do it before you lose confidence. Do it now, and do it fast.  
You stare at him for a second before murmuring lowly-

“Is kissing a thing skeletons do?”

His soul flips in his chest- “i mean, only if humans are down with it.”

“And if humans are down with it?”

He leans in a little bit closer before whispering,

“let me check.”

His mouth presses to your lips- you find the texture odd, but not bad. Malleable, just slightly. It gives just the tiniest bit: magic, you’d guess. Your lips are exotic to him as well- he’s felt soft things, but nothing that feels like this. It’s like falling into little pillows. His soul is singing, swelling, in a constant state of breaking and mending and dying and being, it’s the biggest rush…

He breaks away to breathe, and you pull away as well, with the slightest reluctance. He’s looking at you with the most intense awe you’ve ever seen. It’s not a look you ever could have imagined him wearing. Anyone wearing, honestly, while looking at you. 

“Again?” you ask, still flushed.

In response, he presses you closer and kisses you, a bit more hungrily this time. Less timid: he has a plan now. You knock something over behind you, sitting up on your knees to get closer. He pulls you up on his lap, craning down to get as close as he can. You let him take you over for a moment, when something new presses against your lips, tentatively requesting access. You give in near immediately, remembering the magic-summoned tongue from the bakery.

It feels almost exactly like you thought it would in your mouth. Electric, sweet, quick, curious. When you gain a bit of confidence, you try playing back against it- you’re satisfied as a low purring noise fills the air and rumbles against you. When he finally pulls away, you can’t open your eyes for a moment, breathing heavily.

“you even taste perfect,” he breathes.

Even as you feel your face heating up, you keep your eyes shut, trying to perfectly pinpoint what color that experience was. The only result you get is a deep purple. Almost black. NOT black. The mix of his color and a satisfying blush pink.

“please let me do that again,” he adds, hoarsely, almost right into your mouth. 

“Just… can we not do it in here?” you breathe, timidly. After knocking over whatever is probably staining your floor as you speak, you think it’s probably best you take this somewhere else.

Before you can even register it, you’re scooped up, and Sans navigates through the house until you’re in your bed. He asks again if you’re alright with this, before lowering you to the mattress and kissing you all over your face. Though your lips are captivating, there’s plenty territory to explore here. He keeps breaking away between kisses to ask you if you’re alright.

He continues trying new things, gently, exploring his limits. Nibbles are a no. Lighter kisses make you laugh, which is a golden little noise, so he does a lot of that. Whispering little compliments, praise, anything of that sort, makes you smile. You seem to prefer the soft things- gentle touches, kisses- especially listening to him tell you how wonderful you are. 

“you’re so perfect, baby, you know that, right? you’re so sweet, and soft, and perfect…”

You answer with a few kisses on his cheekbones, which he leans into for you.

“when i saw ya i thought, she’s so sweet, i gotta finda way to make her mine.”

“You can,” you breathe, pressing your forehead on his for a second, breathing in unison with him. He grins, steals a few more kisses.

“you’re my little blueberry, baby. mine. i love you.”

You can barely speak, move, breathe, for the amount of love being showered on you. He makes sure your entire body is flush against his, moving with you, trying to get as close as he can, so you can feel in every part of you that he needs you.

But he personally gets the most gratification out of drawing little noises out of you. Laughs, gasps, hums, the occasional moan. It’s like your soul song on the outside. A little choir just for him. Whenever you let anything slip (because you really are trying hard to be quiet, he can tell), he makes sure to incentivize it with a shower of praises. 

A hum escapes you as he nuzzles your neck, and he whispers right into your ear-

“’s like you’re singing for me, baby, it sounds so sweet… keep goin’… lemme hear ya,” he kisses you on your neck, flicking his tongue across the soft flesh. You give a shuddering breath, followed by an only slightly stifled moan, anything he asks as long as he doesn’t stop. “there it is… christ, that’s beautiful…”

But mostly, he makes sure you’re alright. He doesn’t want you hiding it if you’re scared, uncomfortable, anxious. If you go trying to fling yourself out of any more windows, he thinks he’d die of regret. 

“is this ok?” he murmurs, cradling your face in one hand while he kisses you.

“A-anything…” you say, composure entirely gone. You’ll take whatever at this point.

“i love you,” he rasps, smiling and stealing more kisses. “i love you, you’re so good, i love you, i love you, i love you…”

You shut him up with a couple more kisses, holding onto his face. He feels himself light up inside. This is… this is…

“I love you, too.”

This is amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it was a little short ;) I'm workin on a lot atm  
> as compensation I will see you all again on the 16th


	7. In The Following Days...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans may have forgotten some things...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As compensation for the short chapter: early update!  
> Yaaaay

When Sans wakes up, he has a sense of being at peace. 

It is so remarkably unfamiliar to him that for a moment he wonders if he’s dead. 

That thought, at least, gets his eyesockets open. But, geez- if he’s dead, this must be heaven. Curled up in bed with you. Curled around his soulmate. If he thinks even slightly, he can bring back the taste of your tongue. It was sweet, but oddly electric… sparky, almost. He isn’t exactly how late the two of you stayed up, but he knows there was light peeking through the blinds when you finally fell asleep on top of him, face falling on his chest. He remembers playing with your hair for a minute before conking out himself, a smile on his face. 

But right now, that’s not going to be the best idea. Knowing you, at least from past experience, you’re going to need some reassurance that anything from last night was honest on his part. As wonderful as your body is, he wants to prove to you that he loves you, well, for you. And, on top of that, you probably need food. If you’re anything (else) like he is, you probably haven’t been eating too well lately. You ought to wake up soon.

Sure enough, with a little hum, you push on him and your eyes blink open. He smiles, involuntarily. Just seeing you wake up would be enough to make him smile every morning. But now, after the satisfaction of winning you over, he thinks you look particularly striking.

“mornin’,” he says quietly, cuddling up to you a bit more. “how ya doin’?” 

A little smile crosses your face- “‘M good. You?”

“good,” he says, smiling broader until it turns into a grin- “can i kiss ya?”

Your eyes open a bit wider when he says that, and you stare at his shirt instead of his face- “I almost forgot.”

You get all red, and you finally just bury your face in the crook of his arm out of embarrassment.

“hey, you’re fine,” he laughs. “much rather be here than waking up at six. you didn’t keep me from anything.”

You shake your head “no”- not that, then, huh? He nuzzles the back of your head and tries again.

“‘m not holding you to anything, berry. if you don’t want to do that again, i won’t mind.”

Another little “no”. If not that, then what’s bothering you? He feels, rather than hears, you mumble something into his sweatshirt.

“what?”

“Was I any good at it?” you ask, barely audible. 

He has to laugh out loud- “would i have kissed ya ’til we both passed out if you weren’t?”

That makes your face brighten considerably, and he laughs again. 

“how ‘bout me?”

He gets his answer in the form of your flustered stutters as you think back to the night before. 

“heh, glad. and you’re fine with me being here?”

“Yes.”

“and, you’re fine with…”

You look up when he taps your head with a finger- he slowly tilts your chin up, as if giving you time to say no. And he gently presses his mouth to yours again, lingering there for a moment, giving you a light kiss. You take it just as eagerly- when he breaks away, you nod.

“Yeah.”

“ok. then, you wanna get some breakfast?”

“I can do it if you want.”

“nah, i can cook.”

You look a little impressed, and he nudges you. 

“c’mon, don’t act like you thought i couldn’t cook, eh? i’m a guy of many talents, y’know.”

“Figured that out a few hours ago,” you say, half-sarcastically, sitting up. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.”

~~~~~  
Sans can tell you’re watching him as he throws some stuff together. Toast, eggs, fruit, done. More effort than he’d normally put into breakfast, but, maybe he’s feeling particularly energized at the moment. You work on the broken bowl on the floor, which luckily only held sugar (no stains!), but unluckily, only held sugar. (IT IS EVERYWHERE, HAVE YOU EVER HAD TO CLEAN UP SUGAR BEFORE, IT IS SO HARD-)

“so, uh,” he starts, peeling an apple. “let’s say, hypothetically-“

“Oh boy,” you break in, grinning. “Where’s this going.”

“yeah, yeah. HYPOTHETICALLY, if there was something important i needed to tell you, but i think it might freak you out a bit at first, and i don’t want you to freak out, what helps with that?”

“Waiting an hour so I can at least enjoy being innocent for a little bit.”

“coolio.”

Suddenly, you hear a loud, angry series of bangs on the front door and look around immediately. 

“SANS, ARE YOU DEAD?!” Undyne yells through the door.

~~~~~

Ooooooohhhh, right… Sans didn’t tell anyone where he was.

Damnit, he thought he had a bit more time with you. 

“i’ll get it, here’s your toast,” he says, rustling your hair a little as he walks by. 

You look nervous as hell, so it’s probably best he keep Undyne outside. He hears a few more bangs on the door, so she’s either really angry or really scared. The two often go hand-in-hand.  
“SANS, YOU’RE SCARING PAPYRUS HALF TO DEATH!! HUMAN, YOU’D BETTER TELL US WHERE SANS IS!!!”

He opens the door lazily, not concerned, but a little put out that he has to deal with her right now. 

“sup.”

Near immediately, he’s bowled over in an overenthusiastic hug by Papyrus, who is seemingly in tears.

“YOU’RE OKAY!”

“yeah, duh,” he says with a laugh. 

“YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME YOU WERE COMING OVER HERE, BROTHER, WE HAD NO IDEA WHERE YOU WERE!! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”

(He was mostly thinking about your little gasps when you kissed him, but that’s not a detail he plans on sharing at the moment.)

“wasn’t, probably.”

“DAMN RIGHT YOU WEREN’T,” Undyne snarls, loudly. “PAPYRUS WOKE ME UP AT SEVEN TO DRAG ME OVER TO LOOK FOR YOU! YOU’D BETTER HAVE A PRETTY FRIGGIN’ GOOD EXPLANATION FOR THIS.”

Almost on cue, you walk into the room, a piece of toast in your hand. 

“Alright, if you’re going to scream the place down, you might as well come in.”

While Papyrus lights up excitedly at the chance to redeem himself, Sans winces (in a This Is A Very Bad Idea way), and Undyne growls at you.

“Hell no. I’m taking these two nerds home, stat. YOU’RE the reason he vanished off the face of the planet for the entire day, you know. And if you think you can boss me around in ANY territory, you should WATCH how fast I snap you in half.”

Despite how fricking petrified this lady makes you, you feel the need to defend yourself.

“Hey. Don’t appreciate people coming into my house and yelling at me. Not a great way to start the day, you know? So either apologize or get out.”

She physically moves towards you, and you feel your hands warm rapidly, your eyes burn. But before she’s taken two full steps, Sans steps in between the two of you, face dark. He looks at Undyne, and says in a voice so low and menacing you get chills-

“back. the. f*ck. off.”

She seems to see that he’s serious, so she turns and stalks towards the car.

“YOU’VE GOT TWO MINUTES BEFORE I DRAG YOU OUT HERE MYSELF!”

Papyrus looks at you apologetically and steps out.

“I WOULD RATHER NOT DIE TODAY, SANS, I’LL SEE YOU OUT THERE.”

Sans shakes off the darkness in his face, then turns to you with a sigh.

“sorry, this is my fault.”

You take a deep breath and force your hands to relax, then shake your head “no”. 

“I mean, universe has to give me some sort of punishment for having fun, right?”

He grins- “feel that every day, blueberry. make sure to eat, ok?”

“Yeah.”

“i’ll try to come back soon. text me if something’s wrong.”

“Will.”

“and-“  
“Stop mothering, Sans,” you say, smiling.

He sighs, scratching the back of his head. He is mothering, isn’t he.

“you remind me too much of me not to.”

“Then isn’t kissing me a little narcissistic?”

He bends over, catches your head in a hand, pausing before kissing you so you can move first. You jump up on your tip-toes to cross the last bit of space between you and peck him briefly.

“nah,” he shrugs, playfully. “but it’s pretty dang nice.”

You laugh, and you both turn to the front door when Undyne’s car horn blares. Sans strolls out, waving bye as he goes. Papyrus and Undyne both groan- you’re guessing he made some sort of pun- and then the big Jeep drives off. You stand there until you can’t see it down the street anymore.

. . . It slowly dawns on you that you’re wearing Sans’ hoodie, though you don’t remember putting it on. 

~~~~~  
Over the course of the next few days, there are more nights like this. Where you lie awake, scared about things that don’t matter, and Sans appears to curl up with you and kiss all your fears away. It’s gotten more gentle and coaxing than the first night. Sometimes he doesn’t stay the whole night, but then he always texts you when he wakes up to assure you that he’s real. 

A few nights, though, it’s been the other way around. The first time it happened, you were woken up when your phone rang on your nightstand. Which, frankly, was annoying, because it was the first easy sleep you’d gotten in days. But when you went to hang up on whoever it was, you saw Sans’ contact. You click answer and groggily hold it up to your ear.

“Sans?”

Immediately you hear hard, fast, panic-attack breathing come from his end.

“p-please, can i c-c-come over, p-please, please-”

“Wh- yeah, of course, what’s wrong?”

But he hangs up, and the next thing you know, he’s standing at the end of your bed, shaking. He looks so… small. You don’t ask what’s wrong. You just sit up, hold out your arms, and let him come over and walk straight into them. There are no tears, which surprises you immensely. But he trembles like someone is physically shaking him back and forth. 

Nightmares, apparently.

Of his brother dying. Of him dying. You were horrified to find out these nightmares were normal, and, however vivid they were, he made it through the night fine; most nights. But there’s a new one. YOU dying. You couldn’t tell what he meant by what he said exactly… it was such a weird-sounding dream. 

“we were in the hall, we were together this time,” he says, hoarsely, “and the kid showed up, and they fought me, right, like they always do- but after i fell asleep, when they were supposed to kill me… you got in front of me. and they cut your neck, and, and you were dying, you were, you were-” he breathes in sharply again, and you hug him like his life depends on it.

“‘M alright… shhshhshh… I’m okay. I’m safe. And so are you. Breathe, okay?”

“i woke up, and i thought-”

“I’m safe.” 

“don’t leave me,” he rasps, holding you closer. “please, please, please, i need you, i need you to be here, you can’t leave me alone.”

You rub his skull with your thumbs, trying to still his shaking, assuring him you aren’t going anywhere. He cuddles you to his chest, quivering… your eyes fill with tears. You know this kind of desperation. Of not wanting everyone to leave. You press your forehead to his, cooing and humming until he relaxes around you. 

“Shh… ‘m not leaving you. Never. Feel my heartbeat? Just focus on that for a minute, okay?”

He takes a long breath, listening to the steady beat of it, assuring himself that you’re not gone. You’re here. He wipes your tears away- but he didn’t let you go that whole night, and barely left your side the next morning. 

It took him until nearly mid-afternoon, and a trillion hugs, kisses, and touches, until he was absolutely positive you were alive. 

(Flashbacks of the Judgement Hall, you limp in his arms, a bleeding gash in your throat, blood bubbling from your lips, kept clouding his vision. God, it was scary. The kid was attacking him, just like normal. Throwing everything they had into trying to kill Sans. You were just… there. You didn’t seem to have a purpose, you were just staring on in horror. And, when he fell asleep- he always did, he was too weak to keep going through so much exertion- he expected to die. But instead of the normal pain, exactly fourteen seconds after he drifts off… You screamed. It sounded like you were screaming and choking and gurgling all at once, and there was blood everywhere. 

Sans had no idea a little human like you could bleed so much.)

But you were somehow… reassured. Once it passed. Fulfilled, almost, in being able to help him like he helps you. He appreciates it: and gives you any opportunity to take your chance to help. You don’t really need to give him the opportunities: they just happen. You’re safe, and you’re happy.

This is the eye of the hurricane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya   
> this is a *bad omen*  
> if you were about to do a thing and were looking for a sign about it  
> this is it  
> *don't*  
> *it won't turn out well*
> 
> ok that's all


	8. This Chapter Does Not Exist

If we’re being honest here, there are two beginnings to this story. The first half is fun to tell, because, all on its own, it could be a perfect little happy ending in and of itself. Tied up with a bow, patted, moved on. 

The beginning wasn’t even the beginning: it was just the context before everything fell to pieces. 

The beginning is a fraction of your story.

The second beginning starts now.

If you were the one telling your story, you would weave in and out of it, going back, trying to correct feelings and tiny details that you’d forgotten. It would be the purest form of your story, but it’s not the one I will tell. I started backwards, and now I will walk toward that ending until I hit it. It’s just the catalyst for what is to come. 

We will be organized. We will be messy. We will be honest.   
And we will not leave out the tears, and the blood, and the pain. 

This is the beginning. Let’s make it quick and painless.


	9. This Will Be FINE!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karaoke? While you're bottling up a tiny bit of magic?  
> No biggie!  
> ...  
> Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans is a Worried Boi  
> he Tryin His Best  
> he Frightend

Undyne and Alphys are inviting you and Sans on a double-date tonight. You haven’t had a magic release in a while, and, though it’s starting to burn at the inside of your hands, you think you can make it a night. And, though you’re nervous, you’ll have to ask him not to come over tonight. Just so you can get it out, relax. 

This time you’ll be more careful with hiding your burns. 

You glance at your phone when it pings- (“you ready? i’m out front,”). You grab your bag and head to the door with a bit more spring in your step. You decided to wear a dress with your gloves today! A bold choice, but at least the gloves look lady-like. It’s a pretty, bright pink, the color of bubblegum and neon signs. You can never get the zipper all the way up in the back, but you can’t tell from looking at it. If you spin around, it floats out a bit. Your party dress. Giggling with the boldness of it, you head towards the door. 

“knock, knock.” you hear- as he taps on it. 

“Uh… who’s there?”

“i’m looking for an owl.”

“I’m looking for an owl who?” you ask, already snickering.

He gasps- “i think i heard it!”

You open the door- Sans has on one of those t-shirts with a tuxedo print on it, and black sweatpants. His blue sweatshirt is still on, though. You grin- hey, he put some effort into it, how touching.

“sup,” he says, grinning back. (God, you’re beautiful.)

“Hey!” you say, cheerily. 

“you got your key and everything?”

“Mm-hmm.” 

“alrighty then.”

You follow him over to the bike- he sits down first, helps you up, lets you get comfortable. You in your little dress, getting yourself situated. It’s going to be so much fun with all your tiny human things- not tiny, per se, but smaller- and buying little gifts and whatnot.

“Do we have to do the ‘going down the hill’ part again?” you ask, resignedly.

“nah, that was just me showin’ off. if you wanna hold on, i can do it stationary.”

“Can I hold here?” you mumble, embarrassed, before putting your hands on his knees. He laughs to himself and shrugs.

“why not, ’s long as ya don’t fall off.”

“Kay.”

“you get dizzy easily?”

“No.”

“oh- well, ya might wanna close your eyes anyway.”

You shut them tightly, hold on, and giggle a little as he purrs against your back. (“i can’t control it, you’re adorable.”) Playing with you a bit, setting his head on top of yours with your shut eyes. There’s a distant feeling of dropping a couple of inches, and then it’s still. 

“welp, we’re here.”

You open your eyes, look around. So you are.

“promise ya, though, you can get as touchy as you want once we’re home.”

Though you blush a little bit, you stammer out-

“Maybe, not tonight? I have to do something, um, alone, and I can see you tomorrow.”

“oh- yeah, ‘course.”

A relieved sigh escapes you, and before he lets you off the bike, he says, gently, 

“as long as nobody’s gettin’ hurt out of it, you don’t gotta be nervous to tell me you need some time. trust me when i say, time means a lot.”

“Aw, you sound like you’ve got a sad backstory,” you say, in an attempt to laugh off the warning. The only one getting hurt is you, anyway, so what’s it matter?

“yeah, yeah, like you don’t.”

Laughing again, you take off your helmet and run up to knock on the front door. 

~~~~~  
Apparently the plans for the night are karaoke and drinks. You know you’ll have to turn down any alcohol, as they make it difficult for you to hold back your magic, but you can at least sing. Apparently the ride in the car is your “practice run”, because everyone is singing along to Panic! At The Disco and laughing themselves half to death.

Sure, your sensory overload might knock you out, and you have a very literal, very prominent twitch in one eye, but at least you’re having fun.

“IF YOU LOVE ME LET ME,” everyone shouts in unison, before taking in a big group breath, “GOOOOOOO!”

Sans sees you sway a little in your seat and catches you on an arm-

“you good?” he asks, over the music.

“I’m fine!”

I mean, you feel fine. What could go wrong?

~~~~~

Alphys is looking at you, wondering if her suspicions have any ground. She’ll have to do swabs on your drinks to check if it’s a grounded theory. If she’s right; well, let’s suffice it to say she does NOT want to be right. But you already look like you’re passing out, that’s the final stage…

Tonight isn’t just a random double date. It’s an experiment she’s been planning since she heard about your burned hands. 

The gloves, the mental health issues, the lack of family or friends around to support you, the mysterious injuries… from what she’s read, these are all signs of magic in adult humans. But, problem is, she can’t be sure. I mean, if you have magic, you would have shown it by now, right? They’re all monsters, surely you would think, if you could show ANYONE…

Though, to be fair, she’s not the one to be judging anyone for keeping their secrets. 

“We’re HERE!” Undyne yells enthusiastically. 

She looks around at the karaoke place- this place ought to serve drinks. She can find out what she needs to know.

~~~~~  
You go dancing into the place to the subpar voices of other singers, laughing to yourself. Undyne is handling paying for all of this, so she goes up to the front counter. Alphys laughs with you, doing her own little hop-around dance to the conflicting songs. Sans’ eyelights sweep the place for any potential dangers, but, finding nothing on a first glance, turns back to you.

You’re so wonderfully happy. He wishes he could see you like this all the time.

“Oh- d’ya need me to ge’that?” a half-drunk guy asks you, in passing towards the exit. 

He’s pointing at the half-zipped up zipper on your back, and you slide away from his reach as he tries to grab it. Luckily, he doesn’t make any more moves towards you, and you just laugh it off as he leaves. Gently, though, you feel someone pull it up all the way. Turning around to look- it’s Sans. He looks from you to the guy, mildly concerned.

“you know him?”

“Nah, he’s just drunk and weird.”

He nods, but he won’t look you in the eyes.

“Oh, come on, you aren’t jealous, are you?” you say, giggling.

“not jealous. nervous.”

“Well, don’t be,” you say, elbowing him. “Some guy with one too many shots in him is nothing to worry about.”

He laughs a little himself- he wishes he could just kiss you right here, but it doesn’t seem like the time. Plus, Alphys and Undyne don’t think the two of you are even official in any way. You’re just… really good, really sudden friends. 

“Alright, got us a room, let’s go!” Undyne says, waving everyone down the hall towards the back of the place. Sans grabs your hand subtly as you walk, rubbing the back with his thumb and pretending he doesn’t notice you squeezing his tightly. 

The conflicting signals coming from you are practically deafening. Happy, sick, nervous, carefree? All at once? Hell, at least when he was kissing you he knew what you wanted. He can’t tell whether he needs to take you home or if he wants to stay here with you forever, if that’s what it takes to see you smile. 

“Alright, who w-w-wants to go first?” Alphys asks- “Oh, a-and we should p-probably order drinks.”

“I- um, I can’t have alcohol,” you say, almost apologetically. 

You notice that Alphys looks fairly curious about that fact, but she just nods. 

“They have t-tea and lemonade and things, t-too, if you w-w-want o-one of those.”

“Lemonade is great, thanks,” you say, with a smile. She smiles back.

And she silently prays she isn’t right.

~~~~~  
You volunteer to go first for karaoke- you have a handful of songs that you think would be pretty fun to try and sing. But it’s probably best to try and start the night with something fun. Uh… AJR? Fall Out Boy? You finally abandon all your ideas and pick Piano Man. Billy Joel gets you. Luckily, as the song starts up, Sans, Alphys, and Undyne all cheer. They seem to know it, too.

“SING US A SONG, YOU’RE THE PIANO MAN!” you all sing, in unison. 

You keep trying to hear Sans, because you can hear the undertones of his low voice, but Undyne is too loud. You’ve never heard him sing before tonight, and it intrigues you. Though, at one point, when even you forgot the words- and he was the only one singing- 

“and the piano, it sounds like a carnival! and the microphone smells like a beer! and they sit the bar and put bread in my jar and say, ‘man, whaddya doin’ here?’”

You decided you wanted to hear him sing more.

~~~~~

Human- or monster- it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s perfect. But some mistakes are endearing if you find the right person.

Sans keeps this in mind as he watches you sing. Because you’re tone-deaf. Any notes you hit are purely coincidental. But Undyne and Alphys don’t seem to care, and frankly neither does he: because you look so happy. You look like there’s nowhere else in the entire world you’d rather be. So everyone sings in unison, hitting whatever notes they want and sounding like a fourth grade band performance, and they laugh. 

Sans notes that you look unashamed. Meaning either you don’t know how bad your singing is… or you don’t think that they’re going to judge you for it. He hopes it’s the latter.

~~~~~

Undyne springs to her feet when you’re done, loud and proud and ready to give it a shot. She sings a screeching Metallica song that nearly causes your sensory overload to kill you, before dropping the mic like a celebrity rapper. You clap anyway. Sans just laughs and claps too, praying she sings a bit softer next time around.

He and Alphys decide to sing together, to try and relieve some of the stress of being the only performer up there for her, and make things less awkward for him. He used to sing with Pap a little, when he was little, but he hasn’t done much since. So a setting where the only goal is singing can get more than a little uncomfortable at times.

“i’d like to make myself believe,” he sings, a little timidly.

“That p-planet Earth, turns,” Alphys stutters-

“slow~ly.”

“I-It’s hard to say that I’d rather stay awake when I’m asleep-”

“‘cause everything is never as it seems.”

You’re basically in awe of their voices… are all monsters this good? I mean- Undyne was loud, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t match the singer’s pitch perfectly. You’re nearly in tears by the end of the song, and clap wildly as they come sit back down.

It’s… actually really fun. Soft pretzel-and-lemonade breaks between songs, playful banter and teasing, listening to one another’s voices. You honestly wish Papyrus, Toriel, and Frisk were here. You feel like everyone ought to enjoy this. (Even if you think you blacked out at one point, when the colorful spotlights started flashing.)

~~~~~

Sans looks at you nervously when you pass out on his arm. Luckily you weren’t up singing, you were just on the couch, but it took a little shaking and coaxing before you blinked back awake. 

“What happened?”

“uh- you ok? you passed out.”

He doesn’t like the look you give him. Your eyes look him straight in the face, but they aren’t focused on him. He has the distinct feeling you’re thinking of a lie. And the sweat on your forehead might not only be from the singing. 

“Sorry, guess I got too excited,” you shrug, after a beat too long of silence. 

“yeah… alright. just sit out for a sec, eat somethin’.”

“Okay.”

And you do- thank god. But you’re still shaking, unaware of it as you seem. He watches you carefully. 

~~~~~

After a long night of karaoke, Undyne getting hammered, Alphys and Sans getting buzzed, and you just loopy and close to passing out again, you head towards the car. Clearly you have to be the designated driver here, but the car is way too big for you. 

“it’s fine, i can drive,” Sans says, trying to hop in the front. You shake your head, “no”, and tug on his arm.

“I really don’t wanna risk it…” 

“what if i shortcut us there?”

“You won’t get too tired?”

“i should be fine. worst comes to worst, i have to ask pap to pick me up from your place, and it won’t be the first time he’s done that.”

“Okay.”

So, reluctant as you are, you let him get in the drivers seat. You and Alphys close your eyes and hold your breath, making sure Undyne is over a bag. Dizzy + drunk = barf, an equation you’re well acquainted with seeing. Yet another feeling of falling a couple inches, and you’re at their place. Undyne, unsurprisingly, throws up in her bag. You wave goodbye to them, almost feeling guilty that you’re leaving Alphys alone to take care of Undyne. Sans just shrugs and walks over to the bike, hopping up and helping you up after. 

“you ready?”

“Yep,” you lie. You get the feeling if you don’t get a magic release soon, you’re going to burn your gloves into tatters. 

Shut your eyes, hold on tightly, fall a bit. It’s honestly like magic: which isn’t an accurate description, as it literally is magic. But Sans is panting, much as he tries to hide it, when you land in the driveway.

“You shouldn’t try to do that again, I don’t want something to go wrong,” you murmur, leaning against him so he gets off the bike, and following. “You can stay here until Papyrus gets here, okay?”

“you’re sure?” he asks, noticing your nervous eyes, and the way you’re wringing your hands. He gets the feeling you really don’t want him here. 

“Y-Yeah.”

The moment you’re in the door, you mumble something about needing to go to the bathroom and dash off. He stands in the entryway to call his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!!  
> It's been a lil bit!!!!  
> (coMMenT PleAse Im TeRRibLy LonEsoMe-)  
> Have a good day!!!!!!!


	10. Finally.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We are officially screwed every which way from Sunday with whipped cream and a Sans-shaped cherry on top, aren't we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (it took me so long to find that quote)
> 
> Hey!!  
> THIS HAS MORE KUDOS THAN I ADMITTEDLY EXPECTED!  
> Thank each and every one of you for reading this!
> 
> We've got a lot to go, so don't worry about any hasty endings here!

Sans looks up, confused- he could have sworn he heard something. He gets uneasy again, that same feeling he felt when they found you’d burned your hands. He can still see you in his head, standing over the sink with that rag in your mouth. But, no, how stupid would you have to be to do that while he’s standing right in your house? You wouldn’t do that… right? Not if you wanted to get away with it, no… But there’s that sound again. Gasping. 

“hey, uh, pap, i gotta run,” he says, nervously.

“IS SOMETHING WRONG?”

“i dunno, but… i’ll tell ya when i find out.”

“ALRIGHT. I’LL BE RIGHT OVER.”

Then they hang up, and Sans creeps silently towards the bathroom. He feels like he’s invading your privacy, but you sound like you’re in pain. Right as he reaches the door, it shuts with a bang and locks. Oh, that’s not good. There’s a loud groan, and a sound that sounds suspiciously like stumbling. A bit of a thump against the wall where his hand is. And- there, right there, the gag noise again. The tap is running. He taps on the door-

“i can hear you in there, berry. what happened?”

As if he doesn’t know. You burned yourself again, god knows how or why. The only response he gets is a choked noise. The door doesn’t unlock. He’s debating shortcutting in there to make sure you’re alright, but this is already more than you wanted. You were trying to keep this private, and just get healing help, no questions asked. For all he knows, this is some human thing he isn’t aware of and he’s getting too involved. He prays you’ll open up about it soon.

“please let me in. i can help you fix it. i won’t ask questions.”

Another choked reply, this time followed by the gasping, stuttering breaths of tears. Shit, no, you’re not crying… not after such a fun night. He puts one hand on the door, the other on the doorknob, soul trying to reach yours. There’s no bond: if there was, he would be able to send healing magic straight to your soul to comfort you. But there isn’t. So he’s just yelling at nothing. Sound hitting an empty void, that you’re on the other side of. Somewhere. It’s killing him. The sobs are getting quieter…

“please, you’re- you’re hurting.”

No response. Dead silence.

“clara, this is one’a my nightmares over again,” he says. “let me heal you.”

He looks up when the knob clicks- unlocked- but the door doesn’t open. He silently opens it himself. And there you are, up against the counter. Knees pulled to your chest, bloody hands held open, palms up, so as not to touch them against anything. You have blood marks on your chest from your panicked hands, and it’s dripping onto the floor a bit, too. The whole room smells like smoke and blood and burned flesh. He would probably gag, if he had that reflex. Your head is back, eyes shut, panting. Tear tracks are glistening on your cheeks, but you aren’t crying anymore. His berry… his mate. Hurt.

He’s at your side in a second, cradling you his arms.

“thank you… thank you for letting me in… it’s ok.”

You just nod, pressing to him. His soul lurches, desperate for yours, needing to calm you. He can’t hear your soul song anymore. It’s either to quiet or in too much pain to sing. But it is panicking, he can feel that. Under the fatigue and pain on your face, you’re scared as hell. But you do not cry. You won’t even open your eyes. It confuses him: surely, you must be in incredible amounts of pain right now. How are you just, frozen? 

After a minute or two, you take a deep breath, stand, open your eyes, shake your head. Clench and unclench your hands. He watches- no, feels- as you pull up walls around your soul, and you turn to him with a fake smile.

“I’m fine.” How the hell are you doing that? It’s almost creepy.

“Really. It’s just a little burn, I can fix it myself fine.” He must look absolutely horrified, because you add, one more time-

“Really.” There is literal blood dripping off of your hands. What the hell. 

“what is wrong. what is wrong with you.”

“Nothing,” you insist, shrugging. 

“no, not nothing. something. obviously something. what is happening with you.”

“I told you I don’t talk about it. You said if I let you try and heal it, you wouldn’t ask.”

“yeah, well, that was before you got this magic power of pretending it’s all fine and dandy, clara.”

“I’m just-“

“you’re just what? fine? because, no, you’re not.”

~~~~~  
Your facade is crumbling, you can feel yourself tremble behind your smile. 

“Please stop,” you say, with what you hope to sound like a frustrated sigh. 

“why should i? you’re in so much pain, and you’re playing it off like it’s nothing.”

“Because I asked that you not?” you say this like it’s obvious, even if you know he’s right. It’s for the best that nobody know about any pain you go through in relation to your… condition.

“i told you as long as you weren’t hurting anyone: you’re someone.”

“Yeah, well-“

He suddenly reaches out and grabs one of your hands, leaving you speechless with pain. You shout and step back- he looks like he regretted that.

“Please stop,” you whisper, taking a few more steps back. It hurts.

“i’m not moving until you tell me what the hell is up with you.”

“Y-you wouldn’t- you wouldn’t get it- you wouldn’t-“

“try me.”

Your breaths are going to snap you clean in half, the tears are building, and its burning your throat-

“P-please… just… it’s easier for everyone if we just, leave it, okay?”

“i don’t want easy. i want you to be ok, and not “faking it” ok.”

Blue magic flickers at your fingers, your eyes glow. Sans notices immediately, taking a step away from you. You try to shove it down, but the dam is breaking. Not only that, but so is your patience. 

“You REALLY want to know?” you ask, shaking with restraint.

“yes!”

All the blue magic pooled in your hands strikes out at once, and your entire body is flaming with it. Your eyes are on fire, they’re glowing, you’re burning, it hurts-

“wh-“

“This shouldn’t be possible, humans with magic,” you inform him, shaky tears carving tracks down your face, “but here I am. You got ME!”

It’s all blue magic, motion and gravity, patience that you never had, it’s dragging you to the floor with the crushing weight of it.

“berry-“

“And- and I listened to you, talking about the first humans, the ones with magic, and you were so ANGRY.”

Sans watches, feeling like his soul is going to shatter at the amount of pain contorting your face. Burning your body in blue. 

“SO NOW YOU’RE GOING TO KILL ME, AND IT’LL FINALLY BE OVER.”

“i’m not-“

With a final flare, like a big finale, the magic finally burns your skin, singes the edges of your hair. You cry out, but not desperately. Through gritted teeth. You should have had some sort of outlet before you saw him again. This is too much. It’s going to break you. 

“stop, you’re hurting yourself-“

“NO!”

And then, just as fast as it came, it extinguishes. You look at him for a second, look him dead in the face- but your knees give out too quickly. And it leaves you to crumble to the floor. 

“hey,” he says, trying to sound reassuring, coming closer- you shrink back.

“Don’t touch me,” you snarl, panting. The long burns up and down your body, red blistering skin, the tips of your hair charred black. None of that matters to you, though- what really stings is the look he’s giving you.

Intense regret. It’s so acute, you’re empathetic.   
Or maybe you just regret this regardless.

His eyelights sweep over your injuries, over the resentful look in your still-very-blue eyes, putting the puzzle pieces together. This is what you didn’t want him to know. This is what’s been hurting you lately. This… this is so much worse than he expected.

Controlled magic, trained, that’s one thing. That might actually be cool as hell.

But yours is raw. Untempered. Screaming. It’s all emotion and soul, it’s all… magic. Hell, it’s all blue. You don’t know how to use it. You’ve been needing to release it, to give yourself some sort of output. But you haven’t. That could have killed you, but how were you supposed to know?

“Get out.”

Sans looks up, not sure he’d heard you right. You never want to be alone with problems. “what?”

“Get. Out. Don’t come back. I’ll figure it out myself.”

You’d never turned a harsh word against him before. And he knows you’re still riding the high of your emotions, but… 

“i can’t leave you like this.”

“I’ll… I’ll hurt you, if that’s what it takes to get you out of here.”

He knows you wouldn’t… or does he? You’re full of wrong behavior right now, so maybe you would. All Sans knows is he doesn’t plan on calling your bluff.

“i’ll be back tonight, ok? or Papyrus will come. one of us. you need healing magic, and i know you won’t take it right now, but…”

A half-hearted attack comes his way, landing on the floor in front of him, and he stands.

“fine.”

And then he’s gone.

~~~~~

He shuts the door behind him, soul collapsing- but, oddly finding himself angry. Not at you, but at himself. He couldn’t see. Of all the people who should be able to see, he didn’t. You were trying to hide FIRE magic, of course, no wonder you were burning your hands! Humans know close to nothing about magic, who was supposed to teach you how to handle it? He suddenly realizes that he might know why your brother left- it stops him cold in his tracks. His feet freeze on your front walkway. Humans… hate humans with magic. Don’t they.

That tears him up inside. If Paps had just up and left when Sans was at his worst, he wouldn’t have made it. He would be a dusty jacket in a closet somewhere. He… he HAS gone. He’s seen enough timelines to know. This is the first timeline where he’s found you, so… have you been going through this on repeat? For as long as he has? You- you can’t have. That would… that would be sick.

Wait- HE said he hated humans with magic, didn’t he? On the phone. Just like you said. No wonder you got all quiet. Shit, he said… he said… and then he left. He’s not any better than your shit brother, is he? He feels sick, disgusting. He’s a hypocrite. And he left. He pulls out his phone and calls two numbers at once, starting home. 

This is getting fixed RIGHT now.

~~~~~  
When you actually hear the footsteps, the front door shut… you start to shake. He actually left. You don’t know what you were expecting: you always knew, once he found out, it would end. But something about it hurts more than you thought it would. Maybe, deep down, you weren’t expecting it. Maybe you thought he would still try to help you work through it. That’s sure how he acted. He acted like no matter what would happen, he would stick with you: and you were starting to believe it could stretch as far as this.

But, honestly.

You were thoroughly convinced someone actually loved you.

Idiot.

Looking back, the thought is laughable. He thought he was more broken than you, he said so that night. He said you could not possibly be more screwed up in the head than him… (You laugh, but it comes out choked and broken from the smoke. You cough- a little bit of blood drips down your cheek.) Well, he has quite the competition going. And when he saw it, he turned tail and ran. You don’t register the tears until the salt stings your burns.

You wonder, vaguely, if you’re going to bleed to death. At the very least, you’ll pass out. Stain the tile a bit. Make a good mystery for the police. But after a while of not being able to move, you would die of some sort of infection. Or sickness, or thirst. Your foggy mind registers that this is it. At least you went out with a bang. Literally, heheh.

But, really though: you had- however shortlived- a relationship, met some new people, had some interesting stories. Got help when you were panicking. If you were allowed a few more years of time, you think you would try pulling your life together. Even if Sans is gone, he inspired you. You would have taken the reins on things. For whatever reason, you’re at peace with death. You feel like you’re already halfway there, smiling into some other plane of existence you’re yet to see. You just need to leave this place. You just need to go. You shut your eyes, you smile, you feel your soul ache. Something in you wants to stay, if not for you, but for something else. 

Whatever it is, you know it will give in soon.

~~~~~

“-and i left.”

Alphys and Papyrus both say it in unison:

“YOU WHAT?!”

“i left. i didn’t know what she was going to do, i didn’t know if it would get worse if i was there. she told me to go.”

“AND YOU LISTENED TO HER?!” Papyrus shrieks. “I’M ON MY WAY TO HER HOUSE, YOU HAD BETTER BE THERE!”

He hangs up, leaving only Alphys and Sans.

“alphys, you’re too smart for your own good, too. you knew about this?”

She stutters for a moment, then says,

“Only for a few hours. I was g-going to call you and w-warn you, but I d-d-didn’t think I was the r-right person to say it.”

“why? it’s just magic, we could have helped!”

“S-sans, it’s called energy compartmentalization. It’s a medical condition among- well, those with magic.”  
“what?”

“Withheld output? M-more commonly known as bottling up your magic?”

Oh.

Oh, god, no.

“how long?”

“According to the tests I-I ran, several months. I-it’s b-b-been… it’s been…”

“it’s been what?”

She murmurs, sounding almost guilty.

“I-It’s been terminal for about t-two weeks.”

Terminal. Two weeks… so, since he met you. His soul freezes, eyelights blow out like candles. He was a death note. He was your last wish, the last thing you’d see before you died. He breathes shakily for a second, frozen with the phone held in one hand. You’re dead. You’re- you’re- NO-

“alphys, what do i do?”

“S-Sans, d-don’t blame this on yourself. It was i-inevitable, she was b-bound to lose it eventually. If anything, you were p-probably so g-g-good for her-”

“what do i do. she can’t die.”

“S-Sans-”

“stop. what do i do.”

She goes silent, then speaks in a whisper.

“You take her home, clean her up, and hope she makes it through the night. These are self-inflicted magical injuries. Healing and doctors can’t fix it enough, even if they try. Just hold her and pray for the best.”

At least it’s a plan. But he’s stuck on two words.

“hold her.”

He’ll hold you long after you’re gone, if that will keep you with him.  
He’ll… he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next update on the 28th  
> happy corona season  
> wash your hands (in your own spit) ((its much more effective))


	11. Wake UP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A haiku:  
> You're pretty dead now  
> But wait: maybe you are not  
> Who the hell is this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you love how adept I am at summaries  
> It's honestly inspiring
> 
> Ayy this chapter is a lil bit short so im updating again sooner~~

Pap is already in the house when Sans shows up- waiting at the bathroom door, looking inside, frozen in shock. You’re right where he left you. Covered in black smoke and red blood. You have a soft smile on your face, closed eyes. At first glance, you don’t seem to be breathing. Your hands folded close to your chest. Tear tracks on your face, sliced through the debris of your injuries. You look… if not for the burns… peaceful. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re gone. Sans freezes, too, wondering if this is really it. Papyrus puts a hand on his shoulder, but doesn’t look at him.

With a moments hesitation, they both step forward, Sans picks you up: wondering where you might want to go. Do you have a will somewhere? Your skin is still warm. If you’re truly gone, it was recent. That stings: knowing he could have been here, could have apologized, if he hadn’t just left. Why is he such an idiot sometimes? This is turning into a pattern of his! Standing off to the side when his friends, his FAMILY, die, only showing up again when it’s not possible to save them!

He practically crushes you to himself. Like he did when he only thought you were dead. When he woke up in a pool of sweat, the picture of you bleeding out on the ground engraved into his mind. At least he could call you then. At least he knew, somewhere, it wasn’t real. This is real. This is all too real. He remembers you telling him to focus on your heartbeat. He listens for one, as if by some miracle, he’ll wake up. And you’ll be fine. But… 

-no, wait. Wait.  
There IS one.  
It’s faint, god, it’s so faint, and it’s far too slow, but it is NOT gone.

He thinks he might break down out of relief. Shakily checking again and again, neck, wrists, chest: not able to believe this. If he puts a hand over your smile, he can feel the slightest press of air. You’re breathing. You have a chance.

“She’s…?” Papyrus asks, unable how to finish the sentence.

“she’s alive,” Sans breathes, not wanting to jinx it. “she’s breathing.”

“Oh my god.”

“yeah. alright- c’mon, we got work to do,” he says, with renewed energy, turning towards the door. Pap smiles-

“I NEVER THOUGHT I’D HEAR YOU SAY THAT.”

~~~~~  
You have a whole team at the skelebro’s household now. First, Sans helped clean you off. Baths are quick and easy with unconscious people- creepy as it sounds. But, somehow, it all seems much more manageable without all the blood and dust in your burns. The red stripes of skin are still there, of course: but they’re more manageable, almost. Your face, especially, after it was cleaned off with a sponge and some care, looked like you might just be sleeping. He got the smallest bit of relief in being able to run gentle soap and soft cloths over your face until you looked like you could wake up at any moment. Warm water, gentle motions, soft towels. He held you for a minute after the bath was drained, rocking you while he patted you dry. So beautiful, even all burned like this. Without any clothes to change you into, you just get an oversized-t-shirt-dress. (Courtesy of Sans.)

Which, actually, is fairly convenient, as the next task in order is bandaging you up. That’s Toriel’ task, as she’s the most medically experienced at the moment. Ointment, healing magic, bandages. Your hands and legs are the worst: she’s starting to doubt your ability to walk, or use your fingers, soon. These burns go deep. Papyrus is getting a sippy cup of water from downstairs- no spills, small-ish: perfect for weak hands. You honestly just need something to soothe your throat. Undyne is locking up your house, checking windows, cleaning the floors you bled on. If you ever go home, which she prays you will, you’ll want to come back to a not-broken-into home. A change of pajamas, too, when (if) you need some. Alphys is getting a bed set up: Pap volunteered his room, as it’s the cleanest and neatest, and has a real bedframe. Soft blankets pile on top, and an extra pillow or two. Just to give you rest- however you end up resting. She’s privately glad it’s monster-sized, and for such a tall monster: that means there’s room for both you and Sans in it. She knows Sans too well to even consider you’ll be sleeping in here alone. 

Speaking of Sans: Frisk is unashamedly following him around, holding his hand when they can, wringing their hands and shaking. Sans doesn’t make them move, ask them to get out from underfoot. They’re just the outward representation of his soul. Scared, tired, and wondering if there’s anyone who’ll know how he can put things back together without you. At one point, they ask- aloud, mind you, which they never do-

“Is she going to be alright?”

Sans looks down, a bit surprised to hear their voice. In fact, everyone quiets, to hear how he’ll respond.

“kid… if she isn’t, i’m giving up.”

“On what?”

“. . .everything.”

They take his hand tighter.

~~~~~

There’s a figure in the distance. It’s dark, but it looks like it has hands, a broken skull. A skeleton, possibly? It’s surrounded in a cloak of the darkness around it, which it draws closer with its paper-white hands. The hands have holes through the center, the eyesockets have cracks running from them. A broken monster.

“Hello?” you say, out at it.

It travels closer- not by legs: it seems to move through the darkness like it’s a part of it. You’re a bit scared. But you refuse to show it.

“Who are you?”

Closer. You wonder if it plans to kill you.

“Am I dead?”

That stops it in its tracks: its creepy smile fades. You sit on the ground in the darkness. A sign of dominance. You’re making yourself at home here. 

“If this is where you end up when you’re dead, I think I’m in the right place. You’re death if I’ve ever heard of him. Or her, sorry, not sure.”

“h o w d i d y o u . . . d i e ?”

It’s gibberish, but you can make out words through the- is it accurate to feel like a word is glitching out? You can make out words through the glitch. You think the voice sounds male enough, so you decide to call it a he in your head.

“Burned to death.”

“w h o d i d t h i s t o y o u ?”

“Well, me. But I think a part of it was Sans. Maybe.”

He looks… surprised. Wow, you surprised death. Huh.

“You know him?”

“i s h e s a f e ?”

“When I left, he was.”

“d i d h e . . . l i k e y o u ?”

“I think so. He didn’t poison me or anything,” you laugh. “I just got scared, I guess. and I, well,” You make a little explosion sound effect with your mouth. 

“i s e e . y o u h a v e m a g i c , t h e n ?”

“Yes,” you try to puff up, to sound confident. “I do.”

“y o u h a v e s u f f e r e d f o r i t .”

How does he know so much about you? Well, you muse, death probably watches you for all of your life. Or at least knows the contributing factors of your demise. Well, honestly, he’s just making inferences. Time to make some of your own.

“How do you know Sans? Do you know Papyrus?”

“t h e y a r e b o t h a l i v e ?” Do you hear incredulity in his voice? Why wouldn’t they be? Surely he would know, wouldn’t he?

“Yes.”

“m y . . . s o n s . . .”

Well, now death is throwing curveballs at you. Sans is the son of death, or is his dad just dead? It hadn’t occurred to you to think about if skeletons have parents. You briefly wonder if they had a mother. 

“w e r e y o u g o o d t o t h e m ?”

“I tried. Papyrus messed up my shoulder at one point, but that was just him being a little too enthusiastic. I really tried to be kind and everything, but I think when I messed myself up it hurt them. I hope they aren’t devastated I’m dead or anything. They’re… they’re good people. Sans, well, he left right before I died, but if he hadn’t I’d be convinced he really loved me.”

“y o u a r e n o t d e a d .”

“I’m not de- where am I, then?”

“s i m p l y u n c o n s c i o u s .”

“Oh… when do I die.”

“w e a r e y e t t o s e e . y o u a r e b e i n g t a k e n c a r e o f .”

“By who?”

He doesn’t respond- but the darkness is filled with images. Images that- were your eyes open- you would have seen yourself. Bandages on your hands, arms, legs, face- Toriel, you think it was, is putting them there. A soft bed and some water, courtesy of Alphys and Papyrus. But what really gets you is Sans curling up with your burned, unconscious self, holding you close like nothing was changed. He looks so hurt. So… lost. You put your hands over your mouth in shock. He didn’t leave you. He- he didn’t leave you!

“c a n y o u s e e w h a t h e i s t h i n k i n g ?”

“No. Can you?”

“h e i s h o p i n g y o u w i l l m a k e i t t h r o u g h t h e n i g h t .”

You take a stuttering breath, turning to- well, if he’s not death, you’re not sure what he is, so you dub him “the dad”. 

“What would happen if I hugged you?”

He gives you a look that makes you think you would die on the spot, so you nod and turn back to the visions. They’re gone, though- you figure he made them go away. 

“y o u w i l l k n o w i f y o u d i e . w a i t h e r e . w e s h a l l s e e .”

“Okay.”

You sit on the ground, sigh, and try to relax. You try to imagine actually being held, and cared for, and hugged. That’s a privileged feeling: Being loved.

~~~~~

Six hours ’til the end of the night, and you’re still breathing, still here. Sans knows he won’t get a second of sleep until he knows you’re in the clear. He keeps whispering things to you in case you can hear him, pressing his forehead to your bandaged one.

“you can do it. c’mon, you’re so strong.”

Alphys told him that you’d be passed out for quite a while because you finally spent all your magic. You finally released everything, let down every single barrier working against the needs of your soul. All the potential energy, the tightness of the magic, was substituting half the energy in your body. She’d said to think of it like a bunch of wound up coils in your soul, always pushing. That’s half of what kept you moving. And when they all sprung out at once, leaving you with nothing, you were just human for a moment. 

“i’m rootin’ for ya, berry. you’ve made it this far.” 

Now, if a monster had done something that stupid, they would die. Monsters ARE magic, spending it all would dust them. But humans have enough physical matter and determination to survive. So you aren’t dead: you’re just having the most intense withdrawals ever. And, yes, hypothetically, you’ll slowly get your magic back, and with it, your strength. But it’s highly unlikely you’ll survive if you try bottling up again. As the matter stands, however, your physical injuries will- should you die- be the thing to shatter your soul, not that pressure.

“i love you,” he whispers. “come back.” 

The goal now is just to see if your human self is too damaged for your soul to revive itself. Without magic to help the process along, it will be a very slow recovery, if there’s one at all. You’re currently in what monsters would see as a state of fallen down. Close to death… but not dead. Alphys had speculated that she was surprised at that fact. You must be strong if you’re still holding on to life. He wonders if you’re aware of what’s going on around you. If you can hear him. He wonders if there’s no emotion at all, or if you’re waiting. Waiting to come back. 

“How’s it going?” Paps asks, walking in and sitting, cross-legged, on the floor. He’s changed into a t-shirt and jeans, tired (for once) and worried. “I assume you would have come downstairs if she… you know… but, I- I thought I’d come check.”

“nah, she’s fine- still asleep, though.”

“How long do you think you’re going to try and stay awake?”

“‘slong as i can.”

He nods. He doesn’t think Sans will actually be able to do that- and, he’s right- but hey, at least he can stay up and keep tabs on things. He’s gone entire weeks without sleep, it just isn’t his thing. Too lazy.

“If you fall asleep, I will keep you both safe. That’s a promise.”

“thanks, bro.”

“Of course.”

A long silence, where they both watch you, lost in their own thoughts. There’s nothing Hollywood or perfect about the way you look. No perfectly rustled hair, or just-slightly-smeared-makeup, or clean white bandages, or drowsy face. You’re messy: hair in knots, skin pale with exertion, but also red and black with burns. Splotchy. Your face still. It’s… real. Painfully real.  
`  
“Did you mean what you said earlier? About giving up on everything if she dies?”

Sans thinks about that for a second.

“everything but you. i wouldn’t give up on you.”

“And I would not give up on you, brother,” he nods, slightly relieved. There’s hope. “And- if she makes it, what are you going to do? You’re not mad at her, are you?”

“no. mad i couldn’t see it sooner. i should have been able to fix this.”

“Don’t put that burden on yourself.”

“but i COULD have, and you know it.”

“How? Alphys said she’s been bottling it up since before you even met her!”

“and she said it was terminal around the time i met her.”

“That’s correlation, not causation.”

“stupid, that’s what it is. you know what she told me? her brother left when she was fifteen, moved to canada, doesn’t call her. if this has happened before, burning her hands, the explosions, why do you think he left? where the hell are her parents? no wonder she didn’t want people to know about this, no wonder she’s nervous about every little goddamn thing. she thinks if anyone finds out about her they’ll leave her. and you know what i did, after she blew up?”

“What?” Paps asks, wary.

“i LEFT. and if she doesn’t wake up, she’ll die thinking that EVERYBODY wanted to leave her. i DON’T. i- i don’t,” his voice breaks, just slightly enough to be noticeable. “i can’t. you know i can’t. i can’t leave you, i can’t leave her, i just get stuck on people and get slapped in the face every time. why’s everything i touch gotta bite the dust, i don’t know what i did wrong.”

He takes a deep breath, long and slow, then looks back at you.

“i just know, i love her. that’s it. that’s it.”

Paps stands, crosses, hugs Sans. He hugs back, not realizing his grip is too tight, or that his hands are shaking. It’s one, single, primal desire. Take care of his mate. Take care of his family. Taking care of himself is by no means a priority.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments must be  
> in haiku form This comment  
> section should be full 
> 
> of haikus  
> (i tried)
> 
> Next chappie chappie on 30th :)


	12. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You- You’re not dead.”
> 
> “I’m not?”
> 
> “I don’t THINK so!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this chapter is long  
> have fun

“When can I wake up?”

“I f y o u w a k e u p r i g h t n o w , y o u w i l l m o s t c e r t a i n l y d i e .”

“I know…”

You think it’s been several days since you passed out. At least, the flashes of reassuring vision-things tell you so. You aren’t hungry, or thirsty, or uncomfortable, by any means. You’re just bored. You want to be free. You want to get out of here and see if the visions are true, open your eyes and see it yourself. Because if Sans is really here, and you aren’t high on some fever dream at home in your bathroom… you have a very strong guess you’ll cry of relief. 

The figure- who you thought was death, but told you his name was actually Gaster- tells you what everyone is thinking, when you see the “videos” of them. Papyrus is often worried about Sans, Toriel is often thinking of other children, who’s names you do not know; Alphys is mostly worrying about Sans chasing a false hope that you’re alive. Undyne, to your chagrin, was pretty suspicious about you since the beginning, but hopes you’re alive. 

And Sans? Of all the things you thought he would be thinking about, sitting for hours, cradling a half-dead human, your BROTHER was the very last guess. But he seems pretty hung up on it. Sans was half right about why he left: your parents kicked you out of the house at an unfortunately young age because they caught you with your magic, and when your brother heard, he wasn’t moving away from YOU. He was trying to get away from them and their toxic crap. Unfortunately, in the process, he left you behind. You can’t blame him… you might have done the same. However, that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

His name was Gareth, but you remember he always wanted to be named Nimbus. You were the only person who ever called him that. Long after he gave up on the name, that’s what you called him, and he never corrected you once. You really loved him. Big dreamer, your brother. Shame he was a bit of a coward. 

“D o y o u k n o w w h y S a n s c a r e s s o m u c h ?”

You turn to Gaster, confused.

“No.”

He looks at the images stoically for a moment before dispelling them.

“H e w i l l t e l l y o u .”

“If I even make it. I mean, look at me,” you sigh. “I’m messed up.”

“T o o m e s s e d u p t o b e l o v e d ?”

You shrug in response.

“I a m h e r e , w o u l d y o u c a l l t h a t m e s s e d u p ?”

“I guess- but, you were here for me, so what’s it matter?”

He shrugs back, smiling at you smugly. You’ve long since decided you like this guy, but everything he does is hilarious to you anyway.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Y e s ?”

“Will I remember you when I wake up?”

“D i s t a n t l y .”

“Oh,” you squint at the floor. “Will I remember you enough to tell Sans you’re still watching over him and Papyrus?”

He looks to the ground, smile slipping. “I w o u l d n o t d o t h a t .”

“Why not?”

“S a n s h a s n e v e r . . . s e e n m e i n a v e r y p o s i t i v e l i g h t , s i n c e m y d e a t h .”

“Because he had to raise Paps himself, right?”

“Y e s .”

You think about that. Maybe Gareth would be resentful of your parents if he had stuck around to raise you. Well, bad example, he’s probably resentful regardless. But more so. That’s understandable. 

“Sans told me at one point he was going to tell me something that might freak me out a little bit, but, never told me what it was,” you muse, changing the subject. “I’m still curious about it. I wonder if it was about you. I think I’m gonna ask if I wake up.”

“A n d w i s e l y d o n e .”

~~~~~

A week. You’re still unconscious. Alphys has been bringing over determination injections- not using them, just… having them. She’s too scared to hurt another person after the last time she tried to use them, but she needs to let everyone know it’s still an offer. Sans is way too paranoid to let her try, anyway, so it’s pointless. He’s starting to give up hope a bit himself. You’re unable to commit to life or death- you’re just hanging here, right above a cavern, but won’t climb back out. Waiting for someone else to help you make the choice. 

Sans is so, so tired. He- true to his word- has not slept for a breath since you came here. Paps has tried to force him away from you to get some rest, but that only makes things worse. He gets anxious, and refuses to let himself even eat out of it, which isn’t doing him any good. Grillby has even called, saying he heard what happened and wanted to bring over food, and Sans turned him down. He can’t put a finger on why; he knows starving himself isn’t going to help you. Pap has guessed that it’s another bad-place starvation. So he tries to force plenty of food into his brother, as well as trying to get him to fall asleep. Tonight might actually work, though.

Papyrus is crouched by his bed, looking Sans in the eyelights, worried sick. His brother looks like he’s dying. “Just tonight? I can watch her just for tonight. You can even stay right next to her, you won’t even have to move, just, PLEASE go to sleep. I’ll wake you up if ANYTHING changes. I swear.”

Sans blinks, wincing slightly. So tired…

“if ANYTHING changes?”

“Of course. I’ll watch her very carefully, I promise you.” Sans pauses for a second, then silently nods his head. Papyrus breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Now, please, try to get some sleep. You don’t want to spend your time after she wakes up half-asleep, now do you?”

“no… you’re right.”

“Of course I am. Now, please. I’m worried about you, brother.”

Sans nods and curls up, not holding onto you as tightly as before, but simply lacing your little fingers in between his and falling asleep. It’s so fast, Papyrus doesn’t even have time to register it. He must really have been tired. Paps realizes his brother must have been at some sort of breaking point: he doubts he would have been able to get him to sleep otherwise... But, never mind: onto the current duty at hand. Watching you. If Sans, the laziest person he knows, can do it for literally hours on end, so can he. Long enough to help him, at least.

Paps worries about this situation. If it goes anything like Romeo and Juliet did- and, he will indeed admit it’s looking that way- he’s going to have to watch Sans very carefully. No hasty deaths for his brother, no sir. See, in Romeo and Juliet- at least, the version he and the local community theatre did- Juliet takes a potion thingie that makes her look dead, but only for a couple of days. Unfortunately, Romeo didn’t get the memo, and kills himself out of sadness. And, right after he dies, Juliet wakes up, sees what happened, and then ACTUALLY kills herself out of sadness. Meanwhile, all of their friends and family are standing by with facepalms, wondering how much stupider their children could have been. Pap is just worried, that’s all. Sans’ mental state hasn’t ever been healthy, exactly, but it got better with you around. After this, if you’re gone… well, Sans got really attached, and… well, he simply doesn’t know. 

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when you stir slightly. Not enough to warrant you waking up- just a soft “ngh” as you turn over on one arm. Pap decides that’s not enough to wake Sans over.  
That is, until your eyes open.

~~~~~  
“Y o u h a v e t o g o .”

“I- I’m not ready,” you yelp, reaching out to hold onto Gaster. He shrinks away from you, shaking his head. 

“Y o u a r e . Y o u h a v e b e e n s i n c e y o u c a m e .”

“I’m not, they’ll be mad, just because they didn’t leave doesn’t mean-“

“N o . G o n o w .”

You feel like someone is pulling hard on your ankles, and you fall forward, reaching for him- he just watches you vanish. You’re falling for hundreds of miles, or maybe just a couple of inches, in a millisecond. Ow.

And you land in a soft, warm place. Your skin burns, your body aches, you feel weighed down with fatigue and pain and nausea. Ow… The smell of smoke on you feels permanent. You notice you aren’t in your clothes anymore, that the only stitch of clothing your back is a dress-sized t-shirt and about a million- ow- bandages. You roll over onto the arm that hurts less with a small complaint. You wonder if you’re finally dead. Is this hell? It feels like hell. Ow.

You blink open your eyes. You first register a flame-printed bedspread and a wooden bed frame. A little kid’s bed? Odd, you seem to fit fine. Your fingers lift and trail over the wood, noting how worn down and smooth it is, even as the paint is chipping. Next, you look around the room- your eyes light on a tall skeleton monster in a sweater and jeans, looking at you with wide eyesockets. Well, maybe not the skeleton you wanted to see, but a start. Ow.

“Human?” he breathes, a smile growing on his face. 

“Mmmn?”

“You- You’re not dead.”

“I’m not?”

“I don’t THINK so!”

“Where… am I?”

He’s grinning so wide, but still speaking with attempted softness- “My room! At my house!”

“At your… right, yeah…”

“We brought you here after you had your magic release so we could take care of you.”

You feel like you knew that, but you don’t know how. It’s fuzzy. Ow, ow, ow…

“You look uncomfortable,” he adds, worried.

“Ow.”

“We may need to change your bandages soon. Hm, I- I feel like I’m forgetting something.” There’s a few seconds of silence where Pap stares at the floor like he’s thinking hard, before jumping to his feet, panicked. “OH! SANS!!” he yells, not to you, but just in general. 

You feel the bed behind you jerk, which makes your burns ache. While you “ow”, you hear a voice, low, smooth, familiar.  
“whasgoinon-?”

Oh.

“SHE’S AWAKE, BONEHEAD!”

Oh.

“wh- berry?”

He’s right behind you, isn’t he?

~~~~~

You don’t remember starting to cry. You really, truly, honestly don’t. But both of your hands are pressed over your mouth to mask your choking sobs as Sans holds you. He didn’t leave, he didn’t leave, he didn’t leave, he didn’t leave. Oh my god, he really didn’t leave. 

“hey, shh…” he says, through a smile- god, you’re awake. You’re AWAKE. “it’s alright, ‘ve gotcha… it’s ok…”

You only move your hands to hug him back, as tightly as you can, so hard it hurts your burns, body trembling. Still choking on tears of joy, of relief. He’s being gentle with touching you, so as not to disturb your bandages or hurt you by mistake, but he kisses your forehead repeatedly, laughing.

“T-t-thought you l-left,” you hiccup.

He pauses in his chuckling to say, quietly, “i know. i thought i did too. but, i’m here now, and you’re ok. you’re safe.”

Papyrus is jumping up and down, squealing, eyesockets lit up excitedly.

“I HAVE TO CALL OUR FRIENDS!!” He runs out of the room, yelling and thanking everyone and everything for this miracle. You laugh, choke, hug tighter.

“hey, let up, this hug is bone-crushing.”

You snort. Oh, he hasn’t changed a bit, has he? You lean up a little bit to look at him, and- to his chagrin- your smile slips. He looks like he hasn’t slept in actual years. Deep black marks under his eyesockets, dimpled smile weak and wobbly, eyelights blurry and twitching. On closer inspection, you feel his purring interrupted by random shivers. He’s a little surprised to look at you, too. Your eyes… they aren’t blue anymore. They’re gold. Flecks of green and brown near your pupils, but almost entirely yellow-gold. Breathtaking eyes. Star-filled, shining with tears, containing galaxies.

“Sans, when was the last time you slept?” you breathe, reaching up to touch his face.

“what…?” he asks, distracted, leaning into your hand.

“Sans.”

He gives a start- “yeah, sorry- what?”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“five minutes ago.”

“And before that?”

“a week.”

Your jaw drops. He sighs a little, smile falling a bit- “yeah. i just needed to make sure you were ok.”

“I’ve been out for a whole week? Here?”

“about.”

“I need to get up and- I haven’t showered or- WOAH-” you try to push off the bed, but your arms wobble dangerously and your face plops back to the pillow.

“hey, hey, calm down- you’re still really weak,” he says concernedly, helping you over onto your back again.

“I… What did I DO?” you say, horrified. You can’t even lift yourself up off the bed? You… you really did nearly die, didn’t you? It’s scary to you now, not just shocking. Everything aches.

“all that magic you were holding in was energizing you. the pressure, right? and when you lost it all, you lost that momentum. i mean, look at your eyes.”

“What? What about my eyes?”

“you never told me they weren’t naturally blue.”

“Oh. Yeah. I almost forgot.” 

You sit there for a minute, looking annoyed and scared and slightly relieved. A mixture of pain and pleasure, a love you don’t remember but faintly. Gentleness. In your soul, in your body, in your mind, all gentleness. 

“It’s so calm now,” you comment. “I don’t feel like I’m pushing anything down anymore. There’s nothing left.”

He doesn’t respond, hoping his silence will prompt you to say more.

“I… I’m really sorry. You know, about the magic, and me, and me hiding all this, and me, and-“

“no. don’t think like that. this isn’t your fault.”

“I was the one holding it all back, wasn’t I? I mean, I just didn’t want to scare you off. Normally people leave.” That gives you pause for a moment. That hurts more than you remember it did. “And… if they don’t, you know, then they don’t like touching you, or being in the same room with you, or they’ll get scared if you get mad because they think you’re going to attack them. So you just stop telling people. So they treat you differently. And, yeah, after a while, it starts to hurt, but… at least… you can get people to love you.”

You start when you feel yourself lifted up onto his chest, and he presses his head into the side of yours. It’s the closest he can get your souls together without bonding. It’s the best comfort he’s got. And, besides: as much contact as he can get against you is bliss. He’s been a little touch-starved the past few days.

“i love you. i love you either way.”

You hug him again, tightly- he hugs you back, murmuring.

“you were just scared. anyone would be scared under that kinda pressure. but i swear to you i’m not leavin’. we’re gonna getcha through this together, you hear me? i love you.”

“You, too.”  
~~~~~

Undyne and Alphys are FLYING across town towards Papyrus and Sans’ place, breaking about a thousand road safety laws and traveling at speeds that nobody should legally be able to drive. Alphys is used to this, but she screams at the turns. And Undyne is howling with victory, laughing her head off.

“SHE DID IT, SHE MADE IT, SHE’S ALIVE!!”

Toriel and Frisk are walking down the street towards the skelebro house, Frisk trying to drag their mom faster and failing miserably. 

Metta is squealing with Papyrus over the phone, while texting Blooky the good news, and gushing about how the “little miracle human” would make a great interview on his show. Even if he hasn’t met you yet, Pap has been giving him frequent updates. Clara, the little darling, he just HAS to meet you.

~~~~~

“That is the dumbest idea I have literally ever heard,” you say, when Sans suggests you can move around by rolling on the floor.

“harsh- you got any better ideas?” he asks, laughing.

“No. But that one sounds like it would hurt like hell. As if I don’t already.” He winces to himself at that, since he can’t do much until Paps gets back.

“Sorry,” you add, after seeing his cringe. 

“stop sayin’ that, berry, you can’t control pain.”

“Sorry. I mean- no- sorry- wait. No.”

“heh. alright, well, i could carry you.”

“How’m I supposed to shower?”

He raises his bone-brows suggestively, and you laugh out loud- “Nope, nope, no offense to you, but I am NOT there yet.”

“fair,” he laughs. “we could get a bath runnin’ for ya and i could just getcha there.”

“That could work… but what about all this?” you ask, waving at the bandages.

“hm. maybe we wait for tori to get here, and she can help you?”

“Cool. Wait- other people are coming?”

“duh. you just woke up, half the monster population’s comin’ to see ya.”

The horror written plainly on your face is enough to worry him. “you’re not ready for that, huh?”

“Not really- but I mean if you want me to I can totally do that it’s just that’s a lot of people and I’m a total wreck and I can’t move or anything and-“

“breathe."

You stop and follow the command, getting three deep breaths in before shaking your head “no”. 

“ok. s’that simple, you can just stay in here. no seeing people required.”

“Thanks- but, um, could we get Tori to help me with this? At least?” You gesture at the various bandages.  
“yeah, ‘course.”

A short silence- you’re still buried into his sweatshirt, head sitting his sternum. Sans smiles at his little squishy human laying on top of him… you’re going to be okay. That’s all that matters to him right now. That you’re safe, with him. That you’re HIS. He found you, and he won’t let you go, not now, not ever. He’ll make you happy. He’ll make you feel safe. He’ll make you feel so good- inside and out- that you won’t ever feel anything but love.

“can i kiss you?”

You look up, surprised- “You want to?”

“yep.”

“I- yeah.”

He presses his mouth to yours, soft and careful. Like the first time. You smile through it, humming as he presses slightly deeper. After breaking away to breathe, you kiss back, pressing deep and going hard. He chuckles against your lips and comes back just as strong. Touching, tasting. Sampling what you’re inevitably going to give him more of later.

“wow,” he says to himself, after you pull away. “forgot how good that felt.”

“You and me both.”

“more?”

You hear the door open downstairs, loud shouts of ‘hello’ and booming fast footsteps run up the stairs, and you squeak. 

“Later?”

“later.”

He tosses the sheets over you so you can hide, and turns sights on the door to the room. Of course, Undyne comes in first, holding a huge bouquet of flowers-

“Sup, puuuuuunnk… wait- where are they, bonebrain?”

“sleepin’, so shush,” he says quietly, petting your head through the blankets as if you were passed out. You fight the urge to giggle.

“Oh. Well, we brought flowers and shit! Did she actually wake up?!”

Alphys comes in afterwards, waving her hands and making “shh” motions. That, at least, shuts Undyne up for a moment. Then come Toriel and Frisk, who are holding ketchup bottles and tubs of ice cream. That’s inviting. 

And then Sans freezes.

He hears theme music and metallic whirring before he actually hears him.

“Hellooo~ darlings!”

Oh, no.

Mettaton.

~~~~~

You think Sans is purring at first, but it’s lower and more guttural. That’s when you realize he’s growling at something- or someone? A very- you want to say flamboyant, but who are you to make assumptions- excited voice sings into the room. You definitely haven’t met the owner of the voice, but you’re curious. It sounds oddly familiar. Is a YouTuber in your house or something? You squint, hoping he’ll talk again so you can nail down who he is. 

“Where in the WORLD is that human? I was going to interview that little miracle soulmate for my show!”

That’s when it clicks. Is METTATON in your house?!

Like, METTATON Mettaton? As in first monster celebrity? As in, the monster equivalent of a Kardashian, if Kardashians enjoyed torturing people (in the literal sense)? As in, you used to watch his show just because you thought it was cheesy and definitely not for the makeup tips? THAT METTATON?! Also, did he seriously call you a little miracle? AND a soulmate? That’s a bit of a stretch. You feel Sans tense, hard. Even the growling stops cold for a second. You know the feeling, but you don’t know whether he’s been caught in a lie or exposed from a secret. Both make you hitch a little.

“Dude!” Undyne yells.

“Shh!” Is that Alphys? You’re pretty sure that that’s Alphys.

“Alright, alright, goodness! She’s asleep, anyway, isn’t she?”

“W-We still want to be c-careful! I-i-it’s not our place to say, M-Metta!”

‘Metta’? Does Alphys know Mettaton? How many people here know him, anyway?!

“Yes, well, I want the confession to be filmed. Preferably by me.”

“That is not your choice. He’ll tell her when he believes she is ready. Now, Mettaton, would you please tell us why you are here?” Toriel says.

Oh… this is about you. You feel yourself curl in a little, and you silently worry about what it could be. Maybe Sans is actually leaving. Maybe he was just trying to break it to you slowly. Maybe he has someone else in his life? Or, on a better train of thought, maybe he’s going to propose? Is that what Mettaton meant by ‘soulmate’?

“Well, I have graced you with my presence to meet the poor dear, but if she isn’t here-“

You twitch, shaking your head “no” to yourself. Metta-fricking-ton is in your house, and you aren’t letting him leave before seeing if he’s actually just as shiny in person as he is on TV. You pull the blankets down enough, roll off of Sans, and look. Just, one look. However, the entire room shouts happily in surprise and rushes your bed, so you squeak and flip the blankets back up. Nope. Not worth it. 

“Darling, you don’t need to hide! It’s quite alright, we were just excited to see you!”

Oh lord, Mettaton, like THE Mettaton, just said he was excited to see you. You stick your head out from under the blankets and hiss at Sans in a whisper-

“You never told me you were friends with literal fricking Mettaton!”

His amused grin slips a notch, and he shrugs a little.

“friends is a strong word, wouldn’tcha say?”

“WELL YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU’RE ARCH NEMESES WITH METTATON EITHER!” you whisper-shout.

“Oh, hohoho, darling, I didn’t know you were a FAN!” he trills, patting your head lightly and giggling. “What a fabulous surprise!”

“Well-“ you look around, surprised. “I used to watch your makeup tutorials, heheh…”

“Oh, dear, some of my most quality content! You really DO have taste! Better than SOME people around here,” she adds, shooting Alphys a look. (The two have never really agreed on the anime standpoint.)

“Thank you?”

“And darling, those EYES!” he tilts your chin up with a finger and inspects them, humming happily. “I don’t know what contacts you’re using, dear, but you simply must give me your supplier’s number!”

When you cock your head, confused, he guffaws.

“Only kidding, beautiful, only kidding!! It only makes sense why Sansy here is so enamored with you, you’re absolutely stunning- naturally!”

~~~~~  
While you’re oblivious to the fact, Mettaton is purposely getting on Sans’ (metaphorical) nerves, as well as complimenting you. He knows the skeleton is highly protective of those he loves, and he can tell it’s really- rattling his bones- that he’s showering you in compliments and touching your face. An unseen battle. One Sans really f*ckin’ hates fighting. Because much as he tries to hide it for the sake of saving face, he hates it. Watching you get all that love from someone else- and, worse yet, you actually getting flustered and blushy about it, that hurts. What’s the worst part is, seeing as Mettaton is his polar opposite in literally every aspect, seeing you react positively to that is… well, not worrying, but… (Worrying.)

He reminds himself not to get possessive of you. He doesn’t control you, or anything you do. Besides, you deserve all the compliments in the world. Even if it makes him nervous. And, METTATON won’t ever get to kiss you, if Sans keeps him in line. That’s right- he can’t, or rather, won’t, control the people he cares about. But he’s just fine threatening that bucket of bolts.

While you get over your mixed reactions, both about Sans being “enamored” with you, and about Mettaton calling him Sansy- you fight the urge to laugh while also trying to hide your red ears with your hands. The laughter wins over in the end, and you giggle, whispering “Sansy” under your breath every few seconds. His eyelights constrict- he hates that name quite a lot, and from the look on your face it looks like you plan on using it. But at the same time, somehow, some way, in the very most love-struck corner of his soul, he enjoys hearing you say it. Soulmates can really do a number on you, can’t they…

“Oh, yes- I have quite a lot of nicknames, if you need something to scream whil-“

“METTATON!!” Alphys shrieks, jumping up and slapping a hand over his mouth. He laughs to himself while your face burns. You slide under the blankets, screaming quietly and trying to breathe. You’re suddenly very conscious of how much your burns sting.

Sans fights the urge to blast this glitter microwave out of his house. It wouldn’t even take that much magic. Not only is everything awkward as hell now, but you’re uncomfortable, HE looks like some sort of creep, and Mettaton is just having the time of his life. Little twerp. 

“Ah… Anyway,” he continues, around Alphys’ hand- “I look forward to that interview, darling, even if today doesn’t have optimal conditions for such a thing!”

You don’t come out from under your blankets. Sans doesn’t move an inch to make you- though he does notice that you seem to be trembling just the slightest bit, probably out of embarrassment. 

“Well. I’ll be going then!”

Thank GOD- and he’s gone. Alphys follows him out, probably planning to try and scold him. Undyne follows. Toriel tells Frisk to run along as well, but stays put. Papyrus eyes her slightly nervously. He’s seen her in Mom Rage Mode before, and he isn’t quite sure he wants to be in the blast radius if that’s the case. His feet scoot slightly towards the door- she immediately looks over. He’s gone faster than you can say “oh, HELL no,” and Toriel turns back to Sans and the little lump under the sheets that she assumes to be you. 

“Two things, and I’ll be leaving.”

Well, Sans thinks, slightly relieved, she doesn’t sound mad or stern. More concerned, if anything. 

“Firstly. If I get wind of any- hm- “screaming”, Sans, you will not walk away in one piece. The two of you may be soulmates, but that is… well. You understand.”

He nods, blushing furiously at how professionally and threateningly the comment was delivered. 

“Secondly, my child, are you alright?” She crosses over and crouches beside you, lifting the blanket up slightly. “Those burns must hurt terribly, and we haven’t changed the bandages in a few days. You must also want a bath…”

Sans hears the softest “please” before she lifts you up. You’re trembling lightly, still blushing and uncomfortable, but wincing at any movement. He’s on his feet in an instant- you’re still hurting. He’s staying by your side through all the hurting. And besides, he’s the one who knows where your change of clothes is. 

“Sans, you get her pajamas, then help her into the bath. Once that much is completed, I can handle healing magic and bandages. And- where is Papyrus, I should think we ought to change out the sheets on that bed, it might be terribly dirty…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any'a yous got me some'adem fluff prompts...  
> i needs 'em, bois...  
> in 'da comments...


	13. Bed, Bath, and a Snack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery: start!  
> (Seriously though.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmmmmmornin folks

Sans takes you out of her arms once he has your clothes, while she goes off to find the washer and dryer. You look uncomfortable in every sense of the word, and he mumbles,

“sorry ‘bout metta. he’s always like that.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t warn me…” you groan, but without the energy to facepalm.

“well, what’s there to warn you about? he’s just annoying.”

“He’s just… a natural flatterer, you know? I wanted to, I don’t know, not look like- well, ME. And, honestly, this,” you wave at your bandages and bed head, “did not help.”

“if that circuitboard can’t see how beautiful you are under a couple bandages, then maybe he’s not worth caring about,” he says, mostly to himself. 

“I- sorry, I didn’t- thanks.” 

“what?”

“Thank you.”

He answers with a nuzzle on the crown of your head, then heads toward the bathroom. It’s monster-sized, and you feel dwarfed once again. Looking around, you’re amused to see the two sides:

The spotless side of the mirror, all the little shelves filled with various colognes and toothpastes, a little glass cup for getting water. That’s Papyrus’ side. Meanwhile, there’s the mirror splashed and stained with water and god knows what else, the shelf consisting only of a single toothbrush, a bottle of toothpaste, a comb (why?), and a messy counter. Dixie cups are crushed into little paper balls and flicked in the general area of the trash can, some of them not even wet. That’ll be Sans’ side, if you know anything about him. Luckily, the rest of the space seems to be Pap Territory, because it’s clean as a whistle and prepared as ever. 

Sans sits you down on the counter and leans you against the wall, chuckling as you shiver from the cold granite on your legs. You’re only in a thin shirt, anyway. You’re glad it’s at least long enough that it works as a nightgown. Sans starts the bath, drops in some bubble bath, and crosses back over to you. He has a look of such resignation on his face that you brace yourself for bad news.

“we gotta take the bandages off, ok? gonna sting. can you handle that?”

It- it can sting MORE than this? 

“hey, don’t look at me like that, i don’t make the rules. we gotta clean you up right so it’ll get better. i promise you’ll feel better after the bath, okay? long nap afterwards, for the both of us.”

“Just… do it fast, okay?”

“sure.”

He starts with your arms, hands first. Might as well get the worst over with. 

“hold on, you want me to count down?”

“Yeah.”

“three- too slow-!” he says, before quickly unwrapping your left hand, tearing away the bloody part clinging to your skin. 

That trick always works on Pap when he has to do something painful. You shout, but after the initial tear-away, it’s just a long sting. Tears rise to the corners of your eyes, and he hesitates, but you hold out your other hand.

“D-don’t count down anymore.”

Alrighty, then. He only hesitates for a second when the tears start dropping before resigning himself to the fact that the faster he gets this over with, the better. Apologizing profusely with every tear, he just pulls them all off as quickly and effectively as possible. The wrapped-up ones are the worst. 

“ok, ok, breathe, i’m done with your arms,” he says, almost frantically. 

“Only my arms?” you breathe, cracking your eyes open a little.

“oh, come on, i can’t do this,” he groans. He doesn’t want you to be in this much pain, even though it’s all for the best. All these scars… some are still tinged red with blood, while others are starting to scab over, or scar. Without healing magic, it most definitely would have taken longer. It makes him hurt to see you hurt.

“H-Hey, I’m fine,” you lie. “Just, needed to b-breathe. Do the rest really fast, it’s okay…”

Even though he knows that you’re just trying to make him feel better… it works. As fast and as gently as he can, off go the bandages on your legs- he doesn’t even give you time to breathe before removing the two on your face. 

“there. that- that’s it.”

“Okay,” you squeak, with gritted teeth. 

“can you move?”

You twitch your head “no”.

“can i take the shirt off and move you?”

~~~~~  
Let’s play: Overanalyze, Overthink, Over-worry!  
The only goal? To make yourself as stressed as humanly possible! (You’re the best at this game.)  
Today’s topic? Being uncomfortable as hell while also not wanting to offend Sans! 

You stare at the ground, weighing your options. If you do take the shirt off, you won’t accidentally harm anyone, as you don’t have any magic left. And he DID already do this when you were unconscious. (You still aren’t sure how you know that, but you know that it’s true.) Besides, he wouldn’t be the type to take advantage of you in any sense- just the opposite, honestly. And of all the people in the house at the moment, he’s definitely the person you feel the most comfortable with. However: that’s more personal than you’re willing to go, by far. And showing all your scars at once? Not only these new ones, but… old ones? Well, one. A bad old one. He may have already seen, but how are you supposed to know? Besides, taking this thing off would really hurt…

Wait!

“Could I get in with this on, and then take it off after I’m under?”

“if that’ll make you feel better.”

You triumph in your little win, and hold your arms out. He tries to lift you without aggravating too many injuries, before lowering you into the water. It stings at first, but once you’ve adjusted, it feels like the pain is being sucked out of your body. Even if the tub is so deep you’re up to your neck- sitting up straight. 

“Wow,” you say, shakily. “What is that?”

“what is what?”

“It feels so nice…”

He checks the bubble bath container first, wondering if it’s the magic infused kind. Sure enough-

“green magic, i think. alright, let’s getcha cleaned up.”

Toriel knocks halfway through your little clean-off process to offer shampoo and conditioner, which you take eagerly. Sans watches curiously as you massage the little potions into your hair and wash them out. Wait, if you wash them out, what’s the point? Well, other than that honey smell… that’s really nice, actually…

You don’t take the shirt off until you have to clean off your arms and chest, but even then you slink under the bubbles, self conscious and all-around embarrassed. Sans doesn’t mind, but only checks your arms when you’re done to make sure that they’re all clean. By the time you step out of the tub and swaddle yourself in a towel, you feel a million times better- even if the water in the bath looks like you just killed someone. 

“hold on, just put this on for now so tori can put on the bandages, and then you can change into your pjs,” he says, handing you another one of his t-shirts. He makes sure to look away tactfully while you slip it on. “sorry ‘bout this, just makes it easier. just give it a few more minutes and you and me can get that nap in, k?”

“Okay. Sorry about-“  
“whatever it is, you probably shouldn’t be sorry for it.”

You fall silent, deciding that that’s fair.

“see, there ya go. none of this is your fault.” 

“What did you want to tell me before everything?”

“what?”

“When- that Sunday, after we woke up from- y’know- and we were getting breakfast? You said you wanted to tell me something that was going to freak me out. But then you had to leave and I never heard what it was. And then, you know, all this went down.”

He sighs a little bit, but instead of answering picks you up again. 

“can we wait until after that nap?”

“. . .Sure.”

“k.”

Once you’re over in Toriel’s hands- or rather, paws- she makes quick work with the bandages and medicine, asking you questions. She seems highly cautious of how far Sans and you have gotten in your relationship, and how he’s treating you. She trusts him, of course: he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Maybe even couldn’t. But people change a bit around their soulmates. More possessive, territorial, sometimes forgetting to do what’s best for them in favor of making them feel good. Because if your soulmate is happy- if not healthy- that feels good. REALLY good. 

She’s just nervous that this little pushover human will do whatever for whoever asks it of her. She doesn’t have limits- seemingly because she dislikes disappointing people. Therein lies the constant apologizing, nervous she’s done just that. She’s strong inside: but emotionally she needs anchoring. Not off at every whim of the tide. But you can only attest to how good Sans has been to you, in comparison to ‘others’ that you’re hesitant to mention. Others who have clearly hurt you in the past somehow, you poor dear.

“And you’ve been getting proper food and rest?”

“I haven’t eaten since I woke up- but you’d be surprised how much sleep a coma can give you.” 

“I see. Well, you ought to get some breakfast, or else you’ll be- hehe- toast.”

You smile a little, lifting out your hand so she can wrap it up. That’s the last of it.

“Well! I think you’ve healed quite well since the last time I saw you! Your injuries have healed much faster than I anticipated.”

“Great! Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome. Now, you go off and get something to eat before you take a nap.”

“Alright. I think I can walk now, can you help me get down?”

She gently lifts you down off the counter and lets you go. Sans stops you on the way to the kitchen, hands you your change of clothes, and directs you towards the bathroom. 

“quick detour first, heh. lemme know if you need any help.”

“Oh- right, thank you!”

You vanish into the bathroom again, while he smiles after you. You really are strong, recovering so fast. Toriel watches him with a mixture of love and concern.

“Sans?”

“oh- yeah?”

“You really are so good for her… she has been hurt terribly.”

“yeah, well, i think her recovery stats are some of the highest i’ve ever seen.”

“I did not mean physically, Sans.”

His face falls slightly-

“oh. yeah. i, uh- i’m working on that. i just wish i knew who hurt her, y’know?” he drops the topic quickly as the bathroom door clicks open. With a slight shake of his head, he communicates: “not now”. 

You come down the hall with your hair in a ponytail, worn pajamas hanging on you comfortably. You look immensely satisfied, if a little stiff. New bandages are typically a little tight, you’re well aware. But a few hours should loosen things up enough.

“Well, Frisk and I ought to be going,” Toriel says. “Make sure to get something healthy, alright, you two? Sans, that goes for you, too- from what I’ve heard from Papyrus, you’ve barely been eating lately. And get some rest, will you not?” While you look concerned about the “barely eating” bit, Sans nods. “Good- oh, and Sans, Alphys needs to call you later about some medical things to expect in the future. I couldn’t tell you what, exactly- she told me, but I thought she would explain it better to you directly.”

“sure.”

“Alright. Goodbye, then- call me if you need anything.”

She smiles warmly- and then she’s gone. You smile back a little, involuntarily. It’s been so long since you’ve had anyone mother you so sweetly like that. You wonder inwardly if she would be open for adopting an anxious human chick with magic issues. Sans grabs your hand lightly, holding it in his and squeezing. You smile a little bit more.

~~~~~

“you ready to go grab some grub?”  
“We’re not going out, are we?” you say, sounding horrified. He laughs a bit and shakes his head.

“nah, too tired.”

“Oh, good. Sorry.”

“you’re fine. alright, i’m thinkin’ hotdogs, what about you?”

A brief tour of the house ensues, mainly consisting of Sans gesturing at doors and giving vague ideas as to what’s behind them. So far, you’ve only seen Papyrus’ room and the bathroom, but not much else. You privately wonder what’s in Sans’ actual room, not the one you’ve been borrowing. He notices you staring and laughs a bit. You are going to be pretty disappointed if you’re expecting anything along the lines of exciting.

“oh, ya wanna see my room?”

Though that flusters you a little, inwardly, you just nod and follow him. You- as expected- are slightly let down. A worn mattress, an exercise machine (that he’s only ever used for pranks), a dresser, and some strewn-about trash. It’s slightly embarrassing for him, but he’s too lazy to try and clean any of it up, much less with you right here.

“ta-da.”

“Pfft. It’s cozy.”

“ya think? this’s my sanctuary,” he laughs: even though he’s being honest. 

You look at him, beaming. “Hey, I’M in here! In your sanctuary!”

“heh, yeah you are.”

Having you here is just short of bliss. His territory. He’s safe here, and so are you. Nothing bad can follow you into this room: and if it does, it will receive a swift ass-kicking, courtesy of Sans. He can’t wait to hold you on his own mattress like a little body pillow. That’ll have to be tonight. And your hair smells so good and feels so soft, too…

“wanna sleep in here tonight?”

“Yeah…”

“somethin’ wrong?”

You look at him with a little smile.

“It smells like you, you know… it feels safe. If that makes any sense.”

“oh- heh- no, it does. that’s how your place feels on me.”

“I’m glad.”

Your room is a safe-haven from his nightmares, and his is a bunker from your insecurities. Little spots of peace. You like the idea of that quite a lot.

“Thanks for letting me see it- now can we go get food?”

“hell yeah.”

And, down the stairs you go- the initial effects of the green magic are starting to wear off, but you can make it up and down by yourself, at least this time. Sans lets you crash on the couch, then heads to the kitchen to make the hotdogs. You watch, starting to get a little hungrier as things get going. He just laughs-

“hey, you want ketchup?”

“Tons.”

“well, you and i have different definitions of tons.”

“What do you mean?”

He holds up the bottle, looking at you. You nod, confused- yep, uh, that’s ketchup. He opens the top, still making eye contact. You’re giggling now, wondering where he’s going with this. And then he starts drinking out of it. You scream and explode into laughter, surprised and disgusted all at once. He just looks you straight in the eyes with that deadpan grin, takes a loooooong sip, and sets it on the counter with a little plastic clack. An almost-empty kind of clack.

“we’re going to need another couple bottles soon, actually,” he speculates.

“You. Are. Insane!”

“you still want ketchup?”

“By those standards, don’t give me much, christ…!” you say, still laughing. 

He finally brings over your plate, gives you your food, and grins as you chow down on it. He eats his, sure, but mostly he’s watching you try not to drop a single crumb on the couch. Heh, must be a human thing. 

“Oh, eat, Toriel said you’ve barely eaten lately,” you say, between bites. With the same feeling he gets when Papyrus makes him, he finishes his off. You’re long done by then, though.

“Did you seriously not eat while I was out? The whole time?”

He shrugs- “i didn’t wanna get distracted or leave you, i didn’t know if you were gonna- well, y’know.”  
He doesn’t want to say the word “die”. It would make what just happened so much more real. He prefers to think of it as you being… sick. Sleepy. Not dead, not even close. However, you look dubious.

“Seriously?”

“i didn’t know. you’re a literal miracle, there’s no science for that.”

That makes you think back to what Mettaton said about soulmates, how Sans seized up- Sans seems to follow your train of thought exactly, and hurries to change the subject. 

“anyway- i’m about to just pass out right here, so, you done?”

“Yeah.”

You try to pick up both of your plates and carry them into the other room, but he does it for you, and you almost look guilty about it. Like you either did something wrong by offering, or by not doing it yourself. He just shrugs it off for now. One long nap may sink into the middle of the night, and he’ll have plenty of time to ask questions then. If he isn’t busy kissing up to you (literally) so he can gently break the “soulmate” news to you tomorrow. He doesn’t exactly know what he’ll say about the timelines thing- if he says anything at all- but if you two get to talking about your pasts or anything, he might end up giving you the ‘1 HP’ talk tonight. He hopes you don’t get too shocked by that. But- it was only a week ago, but it feels like a lifetime- you told him you wouldn’t leave. No matter how jacked up he is. 

Heh…

Your soul is too good for his.

~~~~~  
You blink awake, wondering dimly where you are. It’s dark, and warm, if not perfectly soft. You raise your head up off the mattress (on the floor…?) and look around for Sans. You don’t see anything, but the door to the next room is open-

“It’s alright, brother… I’m fine. I’m fine.” Papyrus? What’s wrong?

A deep breath- that sounds like Sans. “yeah, i know. sorry.”

“No, it isn’t your fault.”

“still sorry i woke you up.”

“Well, you were courteous and didn’t wake up our guest. Now, go get some rest and make sure at least ONE of you doesn’t have nightmares.”

“k. thanks, bro.”

“Of course.”

Sans walks back in to see you up on one elbow, listening sleepily. 

“heya, sorry ‘bout that.”

He’s still shaking, even though he tries to still it. You decide it might not be best to ask what it was about. 

“You need a hug?”

The offer seems to stop him cold. He hesitates by the mattress before nodding- you pull him down into one, with an added kiss to his jaw. He wraps himself around you like a wall, a nest, a guard from the rest of the world. 

“thanks, berry.”

“Sure. We all need hugs sometimes.”

“. . . i like that,” he says, with a laugh. “’s a good idea.”

“Glad… now, try to rest, you need *yawn* it.”

He pulls one quick kiss out of you, savoring the reassurance of your lips, before relaxing. You pull a few blankets over you, but you don’t need them. You’re warm enough as-is- you just want a roof on your little shelter. As such- you quickly drift off. He just watches for a moment, and mutters, in a low voice,

“i won’t ever let anyone hurtcha, berry. anyone who tries has another thing coming.”

With that, he pulls you closer and falls asleep.

~~~~~

The second time you wake up, you know you’re up for real. Your eyes open and adjust to the soft light falling through the window, and you decide you’ll have to wait for morning. It’s probably one in the morning, since you went to sleep so early. That must be moonlight, then… you try to tell the time based on its position, but you don’t know which way north is, so you can’t tell whether it’s just before or just after midnight. Why doesn’t Sans have an alarm clock? You move just slightly to look around for one, and nearly immediately his eyesockets open. 

“Oh- hey.”

“hey.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake-”

“i know, i don’t mind.”

“Yeah… uh, did you have a nightmare earlier?”

“nothin’ big.”

“You could have woken me up, I wouldn’t be mad.”

He smiles to himself, but shakes his head. 

“i know, but nah- only needed to make sure pap was ok. i woke up and you were right there, i KNEW you were ok. (He says this like he realized it immediately. This is untrue.) just, needed to check on him.”

“You really care about him,” you point out, quietly.

“course i do. after all the shit he’s gotten me through- and, he’s just awesome. i’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for him.”

“What?”

Perfect timing, he thinks- “you know how monsters have HP?”

“HoPe.”

“right. alright, trivia time- how much HP does your average monster have?”

You think hard, but, to no avail, and shrug.

“I never learned. How much?”

“400-600 is the typical range. the minis- all the froggits and the gyftrots and them, they typically have a lot lower than that, but i mean bigger monsters. pap’s got 680 because he trains so much.”

“And… you?”

“guess.”

You squint. He doesn’t seem like the type to be terribly overpowered… so…

“400?”

“lower.”

“300?”

“oh, you are giving me way too much credit.”

“100?” you ask, incredulous. 

“nnnnnope.”

“Ten? I mean, even the Froggits or whatever have at least ten-“

“think single digits.”

“One,” you toss out, mostly as a joke. He nods, chuckling.

“bingo.”

You open and close your mouth like a fish for a moment before speaking- “You’re k-kidding, right? You could die at, like, anything! That- that wouldn’t make any SENSE…”

“true and true. don’t know why i got stuck with it, and it means i gotta be extra careful.”

“I- I could have- what if I’d hurt you, when I had all my magic like I did, what if- what if when I exploded, I hit you, or- or something- I- I wouldn’t be able to forgive my-“

“hey, ’what ifs' only make you anxious. breathe. i’m way too careful for you to have done somethin’ like that to me, even by mistake.”

After a long breath, you let your shoulders relax. He assumed you would take it worse than this, honestly. 

“So… you know how when someone says sorry, but not because it was their fault, but because they’re being sympathetic? Like “sorry your dog died”?”

“yup.”

“Sorry. Like, that kind of sorry.”

“ok. that’s fair.”

Slowly, Sans feels your body fall relaxed against his. Peace. It makes him purr a little, but he stifles it so as not to wake you. Despite all the sleep and food he can give, there’s still a want of magic. A want of energy. It might take you a bit, but once you’re back to yourself-

“Hey.”

“mm?” he asks, surprised you’re still awake.

“Um, can you kiss me?”

Oh.

Well, that was certainly faster than he anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: SOME of you may have seen (maybe this is just me) flamingburningnormaltrash (in the comments on chapter one)  
> My sworn frenemy  
> I doubt he'll be back, probably ever.  
> But if anyone ever sees him again- anywhere- I would appreciate his whereabouts  
> (didn't even leave kudos the absolute paperclip)


	14. Kissu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <3*  
> *I can't write titles for things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The vibes in this one go back and forth so fast it's honestly kind of hilarious  
> At least I haven't seriously injured anyone!!  
> ...  
> ...  
> yet...

“Um, can you kiss me?”

When he tenses a little, you wonder if you said something wrong. But he mutters-

“how much?”

Weird question, but, ok.

“Just… gentle. But, I dunno, if it goes anything like the first time, I wouldn’t mind that either.”

“heh. ‘m that irresistible, huh?”

“Yep.”

He nuzzles your face, deciding immediately he wants to start off slow. He’s been waiting too goddamn long for this for it to be over in an instant. Sure, it’s only been a week- but after all the stress and worry about losing you? He’s never wanted you more.

“y’know… you’re all mine.”

With a little hum of satisfaction, you feel your cheeks go pink and warm. He reaches up and feels it, laughing to himself.

“hell, you already are.”

“M-hm… kiss me already…”

“oh, c’mon,” he says, pecking you lightly. “i’m just warming up.”

You subconsciously know you might fall asleep in the middle of this, and you have the usual looming feeling that you don’t deserve it, but for now you push it down and let Sans tease you a little bit. He seems to have fun with stuff like this. You hum contentedly to yourself, close your eyes, kiss back a little. 

“aw, someone looks tired,” he says, chuckling lowly. “you need me to wake you up?”

You open one eye with a grin, wondering where he’s going with this. He dips his fingers just under your shirt, just rubbing your back a little. You gasp, not because you’re surprised- under normal circumstances that would actually feel really nice- but because he accidentally brushed one of your burns. 

“Not there,” you choke, wiggling to try and move his hand. He pulls back, wondering briefly if you’re ticklish or something. However, he sees your cringe and backs off immediately. 

“i getcha somewhere?”

“Burn,” you say, trying to get your breath back.

“oh- crap, sorry.”

“It’s- it’s okay. I mean, you woke me up, heh.”

“i bet. ok, let’s try that again, huh?”

You suck in a breath and squeeze your eyes shut, hoping he doesn’t hit any more. But… nothing happens. 

“berry, i’m not gonna try THAT again. i just meant start over.”

“Oh,” you say, opening your eyes a bit. “Yeah, heh, sorry.”

You hate that he looks so… hurt. Or, maybe not hurt, but worried. 

“are you ok?”

“Yes.”

“really.”

“Just thought you would- I mean, not on purpose or anything- I mean, I-“

“‘m not gonna hurtcha, ok?”

You nod, still secretly a little nervous. He pulls you closer to him, planting a couple more skele-kisses on your lips and relaxing in the hope it’ll make you do the same.

“anybody who hurt you like that before-” another kiss, this time on the side of your head- “is long gone now. and we’re not letting ‘em come back.”

You laugh a little, kiss him between the eyesockets. He starts purring again.

“love it when ya kiss me first.”

“Why do you think I let you kiss me so much?”

“heh.”

~~~~~

He hurt you. He just wanted to make you feel comfortable, and safe, and good, and he just HAD to mess it up… And when he wanted to start it over, you winced like he was going to slap you. His soul ached a little when he saw that. He’s got an arsenal of kisses, reassurances, hugs, and jokes on his side, but sometimes even that isn’t enough to make you feel better. No, as long as the two of you aren’t soulbonded, he can’t make you feel better like he wants, straight from your soul. And, no, you’re not remotely ready for him to even SEE your soul, if you’re already so sensitive about your body, but he thinks he knows what he would see. Blue- patience, because of your magic- and cracks. Healed over, sure, but cracks nonetheless. 

Cracks in souls are different than breaks. Breaks happen when you die. When your body can’t hold your soul anymore, it shatters. But soul cracks start in the soul. When the body is unharmed, but the soul is put through so much stress or anger or heartbreak that it fractures. Sans’ soul can attest to having cracks from all three. When humans ‘die of heartbreak’, it’s essentially the soul cracking so badly that even the slightest damage to the body can shatter it. And knowing how like him you are, knowing how awfully hurt inside you are from the way you act, and the amount of secrets you’ve hidden, he knows there will be cracks. He just prays that one day you’ll bond with him. That will help. That will help the both of you.

He’s pulled out of his train of thought when you aim a little lower and kiss him on the sternum. That’s good stuff, right there. A little trail of kisses from his sternum to his collarbone, his jawline, his mouth. He gives a little shudder at the end of it. It feels like his bones are on fire. Warm and lit up. God, you’re so soft…

“You, uh, okay?” you giggle, while he tries to hold himself together. 

It’s suddenly a tug of war battle in his head: common sense, which demands that he make sure you’re comfortable and safe, and the urge to just take you all at once, and let what happens happen. 

“can ya do that again?” he asks, slightly shakily.

You giggle- not really because you enjoy teasing him, but mostly because you’re embarrassed. Slightly slower, more sensually, than before, you leave your little trail of kisses up and down his front, hesitating a bit over the bone, because, admittedly, it intrigues you. It’s weird. Different. A long, shuddering breath, punctuated by low laughter, rumbles against you. That… somehow terrifies and excites you at the same time. 

“you… doin’ ok?” he asks, sounding oddly strained.

“Yeah, I’m fi- hello,” you say, a little surprised, when he presses his skull in towards your jaw.

“please… y’know…”

You raise your hands up onto his skull, pet him a little. He purrs, trying to get as close as he can. Soft, soft, soft. 

“Is this good?”

“you have no idea, berry.”

“Heheh, glad…”

A tiny pause, filled only with the hum of purring and your little whispers, little kisses on the back of your hands that don’t go unnoticed. 

“. . . . i didn’t wanna lose ya. so scared i was gonna lose ya. so it’s that much better… knowin’ you’re still here, and you’re only mine,” Sans says, breaking the quiet.

“Well, I told you I wouldn’t leave you, didn’t I? No matter what.”

After another hesitation, you feel careful arms pull around your back, watching the burns and bandages, and cradling you to him delicately. He’s so scared of harming you, breaking you.

“you know how sweet you are?”

“No,” you say, with a little yawn.

“so sweet. you’re sweet to everyone, you’re so sweet to me. you even taste sweet,” he adds, kissing you again. He takes advantage of your little giggle to press in deeper. When he finally pulls away, you take a few deep breaths and murmur.

“You really do love me, don’t you?”

“what, you didn’t think so before?”

“You came back. And… and you still… you don’t care that I’m like this.”

He presses his face into the side of your head, tiredly laughing.

“don’t think i don’t care. i care. i just love you for it anyway.”

“Why?” you ask, under your breath.

“‘cause it doesn’t change anything. magic is awesome, you just don’t know how to temper it yet. i mean, look at’cha… oh, shit, what is that,” he says, suddenly breathless. 

“You don’t mind, right?” you ask, hand held hesitantly over the side of his ribcage, under his shirt. 

“don’t stop,” he laughs lowly, nuzzling your face. Any speech he was planning on making is long gone.

You gently rub up and down on the lowermost ribs, occasionally scratching lightly or gliding your knuckles over them. They’re shaking and hot- you would think he had some sort of fever if not for the things he’s saying. He’s begging for you to give him everything, to drive him straight past ecstasy to somewhere completely new.

“ah- feels so good- ngh, clara, you are the most perfect- hh- oh geez-” he’s struck dumb when you lean down and kiss him on the ribs. Little coaxing kisses under his shirt, while you giggle a little. Every now and then, he’ll dip down for a kiss, tasting you. You love everything about it.

“Hey…” you say, when you find his spine past his ribcage. “how’s this?”

It only takes a couple of strokes with your fingertips on the inside of his lower lumbar. He lets out a low groan, skull thrown back as he pants. Like a dog, you think to yourself. He can’t put together a comprehensive sentence. It’s all this, there’s nothing else but this. You have to smile a bit: here you were thinking the playing field wasn’t level. You can drive him insane with just a handful of weak spots.

“You want me to stop?” you ask teasingly, after a minute or two.

“heh, hah… no…” he pants.

“What about…” you combine rubbing on his spine with a few strokes on the underside of his ribs- 

“hah- clara…”

“I love you,” you say, just loud enough to be heard over his rough breathing. Sans feels like it’s some sort of warning-

Suddenly, though, he feels you speed up dramatically- with a final shudder and a groan, he goes over the edge. He manages to keep his eyelights locked on you, though, to see your blushed-over face at what you’ve done to him as his entire body spasms. He realizes, through his pleasure-filled mind, that Pap is asleep in the other room, and he probably shouldn’t wake him up. He shuts his mouth as best he can. You slow down a bit, so he can get his act together.

“i love you, so much, you don’t even know, heheh,” he says, tiredly, grinning up at you. He’s all sweaty. You have no idea how that works, but it somehow makes sense. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, thumb drifting back and forth over your lips. He kissed those lips. They’re perfect.

“I can’t wait for me to be all healed up, and I won’t be so sensitive,” you murmur, tracing your fingertips over his knuckles, curiously.

“can’t wait, imma make you feel this good, heh…”

You hesitate for just one second, then press straight into a kiss, opening your mouth and starting in before he has a chance to get a breath in. You can hear a low groan against your lips before he deepens it- further than you thought a kiss could go, anyway. His tongue might as well have memorized your mouth by now. Any pain from your legs or aching hands is shoved away roughly in your mind. Mostly you’re wondering why Sans seems so utterly enamored with your skin, pressing on it, kissing it, dipping the tips of his fingers into it. 

“‘M I that soft to you?” 

“you felt this?”

With a handful more kisses, he lifts a hand and checks the back of your neck. When he feels you sweating, he slows down.

“Hey… what’s goin’on…” you say, lazily. 

“you’re getting too exerted,” he murmurs, kissing you again. “don’t wantcha t’go too hard. just relax, ok?”

You can’t. The second you relax, you feel like you’re being careless. So you just settle for letting him handle the kisses- which are a little sloppy, as he’s exhausted from his climax, and you’re just tired from all the kissing- while also pulling him closer with your legs. It’s a bit of a struggle to calm things down with your legs wrapped around his back, but he manages. He slows down, softens, untangles his limbs from yours until he’s just lying beside you, playing with your hair.

“you’re so amazing,” he chuckles softly. “forgot the last time i felt that good.”

“Same here. You like the thing?”

When he looks at you confusedly, you gently stroke over one of his ribs with a thumb, and he gives a shaky breath.

“love that. how’d you feel?”

“Great,” you yawn again. “But I’m wrecked. I might take a while to wake up, okay? Just don’t get scared.”

“won’t. take your time.”

“Wake me up if you get nightmares, okay? Don’t leggo, okay?”

He chuckles at your tired, slightly-loopy directions and takes your hand.

“won’t. you sleep.”

“Okay…”

“ok.”

Sans knows it’s going to take a few minutes to get to sleep. He’s still basking in the way your face looked as you pushed him to the limit. That’s a look he’s not going to forget.

~~~~~

Sans typically wakes up around twelve, on a good day, when he isn’t obligated to do much. If Paps wasn’t around, he might get up even later. He knows full well that humans have sleep cycles, and you might not be there by the time he gets up… so it’s a bit of a surprise when you are. Once again, he feels the satisfaction of waking up to a safe soulmate. His mate. HIS mate, nobody else’s. You definitely proved as much last night. You’re safe, warm, and comfortable, and that’s all that matters right now. It brings a bit of a smile to his face.

Upon close inspection, he’s amused to find that you really are completely crashed. No gentle shakes or words seem to have any effect on you. You probably got really drained after last night. Another thing he notices is that you’re clinging onto his arm tightly with both hands. Even in your sleep, you sure have one hell of a grip.

“hey, you gotta let go of me if you want any food,” he chuckles, trying to pry your hands off. 

You give the smallest whimper and hold tighter. Resigning himself to this fate, he drops back onto the mattress. Welp, it’s better than getting up, he supposes. He hopes Papyrus isn’t too worried. Sans is so lost in thought he doesn’t notice your breathing getting faster.

~~~~~  
“Where are you going?” you’re shorter than you remember, and Nimbus is cringing, holding onto the doorknob and not looking at you. 

“Just hanging out with friends.”

“At midnight? With all of your stuff?”

“Yep.”

You squint at him, and he sighs.

“Mom and Dad know.”

“Know?” you breathe, hoping, PRAYING that doesn’t mean what you think it means.

“Your magic, yeah. I saw, they found some stuff, and… I don’t know, kid, I don’t wanna be here when they come to you. I think they’re going to make you leave. I’m just getting a head start.”

Your breaths are shorter, you can feel the blood leave your face. You have no friends, no other family but him, he can’t LEAVE you, not if you’re going to be all on your own, no, no, no…

“You- can’t I come with you?” you ask, stumbling forward to grab his sleeve. He shrugs you off, but won’t look you in the eyes.

“No. Mom and Dad’ll kill me. I’m just getting out of town.”

“N-no- no, you can’t go, you c-can’t leave, you- I need you, they’ll hurt me, you know they will! Nimbus, I d-don’t have anywhere else I c-can go-“

“You’re a smart kid. You’ll figure something out.”

“No-“

But he’s headed out to his van already, and no amount of begging or sleeve-yanking on your part can convince him to come back inside. He’s hopping in the front seat while you sob, pleading that he take you with him. His eyes, just as blue as yours, ache with sadness. You want to drive a wedge into that sadness, break it wide open, convince him to help you escape.

Before you get the chance, though, you hear,

“Sorry.”

He shoves you off of him, slams the door on his van and speeds off, leaving you in a cloud of exhaust. A bad habit of that van that he really needs to get checked. It doesn’t help your stinging eyes and choking breaths. 

The next thing you know, there’s a lot of angry yelling and something burning hot against your back, stabbing into you painfully. A poker, you think. How your dad got a hot poker you don’t remember. Only the pain.

~~~~~~

Sans looks down when you start trembling, pulling on his arm like you’re begging him for something. He hopes you aren’t having a nightmare.

“Take me with y-you,” you breathe- “Don’t l-leave…”

“hey…” he says, reassuringly, petting your back. “i’m right here, it’s ok.”

“Stop it… that h-hurts…”

He feels his soul ache, and he pulls his hand back. Either something happened in your dream, or you don’t like the touch. He reaches out to your soul, almost on instinct, trying to calm it… but there’s still no bond to do so with. It’s like grabbing at air. Trying to hold water in your fingertips.

“I’m s-sorry… I’m sorry…”

“you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“I d-didn’t know, I d-d-didn’t know he was gonna leave…”

“wake up, berry, you’re safe. you’re fine.”

Finally, your eyes pop open. You stare into space for a bit, still panting and tense. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, eyes going glassy with tears and flashbacks.

“hey… you’re alright, it’s fine.”

You blink, dropping a couple of tears onto your shirt, and focus your eyes forward. Sans just squeezes you in a hug, then says, softly,

“you’re safe. i’m right here, i’m protecting you. nobody can hurtcha right now.”

Your soul song has been replaced with a hiccuping tune that sounds vaguely like a low scream. Hurt. The sounds of whimpering animals and dying things. He rubs your shoulder-blades, trying to bring you back to yourself.

“Nightmare?” you ask, quietly, after a moment.

“just a nightmare,” he reassures you; “it’s not real.”

“Oh.”

“yeah. sounded pretty bad.”

Your hand reaches over your back, and- though he can’t see it- fingers a small, circular scar. It’s white and raised a little bit on your skin. It helps remind you the days since you got it have been many, and long. Even so, just feeling it there makes you anxious. Sans doesn’t like the way you’re breathing- it’s too jagged and harsh. Too fast. He worries you’re on the edge of a panic attack.

“hey… can you do something for me?”

“Y-yeah-?”

“can you breathe for me? just one, big, deep breath.”

You focus on it, try desperately to get a handle on your hiccuping self. Finally, you manage one, big, shuddering breath. He rubs your arm in a ‘thank you’.

“there… how ya feelin’?”

“Better. Sorry. Thanks.”

“yeah. you wanna tell me what it was about?”

You open your mouth, but no words come out. Trying to formulate a sentence that would even begin to describe it would break you. Because- and the worst part is- that wasn’t just a nightmare. That was… more than a nightmare.

“My brother.” There isn’t enough air. Why can’t you breathe?

“oh.”

Of course that’s the only response he can give. The thought, the IDEA, of a brother that isn’t always by your side, troubles him. Family who doesn’t care. He wonders if your brother hurt you. Physically, that is- beyond mentally. His hand tries to follow yours to the place on your back that you’re petting- with increased anxiety- but you don’t let him. Your hand grabs his wrist and pulls it away, so he backs off.

“how do you feel?”

“I… I don’t know. I just… don’t feel anything.”

Well, though that freaks him out a little- since he’s been through his fair share of apathy- you just seem a little shell-shocked. You’ll be alright after a little bit of food and maybe a walk.

“What do you want?” you murmur, staring at the sheets.

“whaddya mean?”

“What do you want from me?” you breathe. “I don’t want you to think I’m messed up, or useless, or- or something. How do I make up for this? Just- what can I do?”

‘what can you do…’ he thinks, ‘for me not to leave you? sweetheart…’

“nothin’.”

You shut your mouth and meet his eyelights. You look slightly panicked- he realizes how that must have sounded and tries to rephrase.

“nothin’, ‘cause i’m not leaving you alone, no matter what. i mean that. you don’t have to do anything to convince me to stay with you.”

Still nothing on your end.

“you want to go get some food?”

You just shake your head no and pull yourself into his hoodie. He loops an arm around you and sighs. He gets it now: you need a second to reassure yourself that you’re safe. Papyrus has had to do this for him a million times. You know the dream is over, but you’re still in the period of, “what if that had actually happened?” Or, more accurately, in his case- “what if that happens again?” You force your hands to release his arm, once you realize how tight your grip was. As soon as he’s free of the little bond, he rolls onto his side, holding your face in a hand and playing idly with your hair as he tries to think of something to say. Something to distract you, something to make you feel better… but what?

Oh, wait- “you wanna hear something… cool?”

“Sure.” you say it just above a whisper.

With one last deep breath, he murmurs, “you and me are soulmates.”

That, at least, gets your attention. “What’s that mean?”

“it means… it means our souls were made for each other. every monster is supposed to have one, and you’re supposed to find yours. most people don’t, or just settle for whatever. i didn’t really care about… anything like that. and then you come along and, well, ya turned everything on it’s face for me in the best possible way.”

“Is that… a joke?”

“nope. you can read books about it. monsters feel the connection right off the bat, right? but humans take time. you have to convince their brain that you fit with them before you can even start thinkin’ about connecting with their souls. which is hard, because monsters ARE their souls.”

“And… when you met me in the bakery, that was you trying to convince me?” you ask; luckily starting to get distracted from your dream.

“yup. heh, i fell in love with ya the second i saw ya, berry.”

Your eyes are so wide… but not entirely in the good way.

“What are you saying?”

“dunno. we’re soulmates, that’s it. hate to sound cliché, but we’re meant to be.”

“I don’t… I… so, it wasn’t YOU that liked me, it was fate that made your soul think that you did, and it’s not really you? I just got, I dunno, assigned to you? And you got stuck with me… and it’s not that you really like me, is it, it’s just the universes’ way of-“

“woah, slow down,” he says, as your panic mounts. “i want you to trust me when i say, if it was just the universe telling me what to do? i wouldn’t listen. YOU made me love you, berry.”

After a second of not having any emotion on your face, you relax a bit. The tiniest little smile on your face, playing at the edge of your lips, scrunching your eyes up the tiniest bit. 

“So… you’re saying we’d get married and stuff?”

He softens at the idea of waking up to your eyes every day, of doing little domestic things with you. Make you a part of his family, keep you safe. Make you happy. He can’t imagine a future that doesn’t have you in it, not after all this. Even if the thought of having to be a responsible adult sounds terrifying. 

“maybe one day, who knows. you might wanna ask me, though, your odds would be pretty good.”

“You saying you’re too lazy to propose to me?”

“yep.”

“Well, fair.”

“heh… i got books and stuff after i met’cha in the bakery, y’know. i found a couple things on human-monster soulmates, see? thought- well, i thought, i wouldn’t wanna screw this up for ya.”

“That’s really sweet, actually. But I think you do fine going off-book a little.”

He grins at you, and you laugh. 

“yeah, well, i didn’t wanna screw up anyway.”

“What’d you do next?” you ask, smiling.

“well, pap found out. he got real excited, he’s still pretty mortified about messing up your arm.”

You have to think back a bit before remembering that incident- “I nearly forgot about that- I don’t hold it against him, he’s actually super sweet. I don’t blame you for loving him so much.”

“yeah… i don’t know what i’d do without such a cool guy lookin’ out for me.” You grin, and he bumps you- “what, you think that’s cheesy?”

“No, I think it’s perfect. I… I think that’s what all brothers should be like. Looking out for each other and stuff.”

He bumps his mouth to the top of your head and smiles. “he’d adopt you as his lil’ sis.”

“I’d like that.”

“guess that means you gotta marry me pretty fast, eh?”

“Not too fast, y’know. I’m still getting over the ‘meant-to-be’ news.”

“yeah.”

You laugh to yourself. He’s so chill.

“you wanna get some breakfast?”

“I’d love to.”

He pecks you lightly and helps you up. Though you still wobble on your feet, you seem to be a bit more confident in your ability to walk. He lets you hold onto his arm, smiling at you. You just… make him happy. He can’t wait for Pap and you to become friends. The idea of having long conversations with the two of you just makes his soul sing. He faintly hears yours call out in response, singing… even if it can’t reach his. Not yet. Bonding can come later. For now he simply starts down the stairs. You’re going to eat like a bagel-loving princess in HIS house.

~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yall ready for some l o n g PSAs??  
> Great because you don't have a choice
> 
> -due to The Great Corona, I have nothing to do except write: with this in mind, I am WAY ahead in Blueberry. You know how far ahead I am? I'm burning the house down as we speak, man! They aren't even in the car yet! (Heh I'm spoiling it ok nevermind) But, in all honesty, I've started like 50 different other ideas. And i thought, hey, what about like a battle of the bands kinda thing. Drop the first page of the various things I want to start all in one work, and let you guys choose which one you want to see the end of the most. 
> 
> More details in the work>>> [ here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23515708/chapters/56395801)
> 
> -listen to Doo Wops and Hooligans  
> the whole album
> 
> That is all


	15. Not Even In The Car Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...but we're close.

Gareth- Nimbus- is sitting at his kitchen table, sipping on a coffee and thinking about you. He long ago decided you were dead. The hope that you’re alive is so faint that he made the choice not to let himself have hope. 

He once read, ‘Hope is the thing with wings.’ It gets bigger and bigger, light and fluttery and fueled only by hypotheticals. It’s like adding a drop of water, one by one, to a reservoir. As you do it, it doesn’t seem like much. But the dam breaks one day, under the force of the waves, and it kills you. The thing with wings will fly away and leave you all on your own.

He had only ever taken one precaution in trying to find you. He sent you a postcard. You’re a smart girl. If you did get that card, if mom and dad hadn’t kicked you out of the house by then, you’ll have a general idea of where he lives. And his new name.

See, he changed his name from Gareth to Nimbus- once he was legally an adult. Partly as fulfillment of a long-dead childhood dream, partly so his parents couldn’t find him… and partly in your honor. Every time his neighbors call him Nimbus, any time any passerby of this small town greet him, it’s like having you back. Just for a split second. He remembers, in those moments, the things you used to say to him. 

“Nimbus, look! I found that book you wanted at the library, I checked it out for you!”

“Nimbus!! The fake roach trick is stupid, stop doing it to me! We need to do it on Molly instead!”

“Nimbus, can I sleep in your room, I h-had a nightmare…”

“Nimbus, I d-don’t have anywhere else I c-can go-“

He realizes his hand is trembling so hard his coffee spilled on the table, and slams it down. That only makes it spill more, but he couldn’t care less. His eyes burn. His hands warm up.  
Thinking about you only ever ends like this.  
He doesn’t know why he bothers with it anymore.

~~~~~

“so, i had this idea. and, if you don’t want to do it, or if you think it’s stupid, then we can scrap it.”

“What is it?” you ask, looking up from the book he lent you. (Quantum physics- it’s actually pretty interesting.)

“what would you say if i said i wanted to try to find your brother?”

You look at him, dumbstruck. Sure, you’d considered trying something like that before, but… not with him. It’s not something you’d ever considered as an actually plausible idea.

“I’d… I’d say I was listening, if you had a plan.”

“only part of one,” he shrugs. 

“And that is?”

“when he left, how do you know he ended up in canada?”

“Well, apparently he tried sending me a postcard, but I… I wasn’t living with my parents anymore by then, so I didn’t get it. But when I called them once, because I was trying to find out where he was, they told me he, um,” You can still hear your mother screaming at you over the phone… “He was in Canada, and I wouldn’t see him again.”

“so we get our hands on that postcard, and we’re golden.”

“How are we supposed to do that?”

“you give me the address, and i go talk to your parents.”

Your heart sinks into your shoes. 

You imagine Sans, not knowing half of the shit your parents have done, strolling up the front walkway. He knocks, they answer. Knowing them, they’re probably going to be pissed a monster is there. You think of a curt word from your father, a cold greeting from your mom. Sans asks about you, pretending he doesn’t know what happened. He asks about Nimbus. You can practically see their faces darken from here. And he’d ask about the postcard, maybe he’d use some kind of authority as an excuse to see it. Your dad would shake his head and try to shut the door, your mom would hurry away to go and try to call the cops on him. The idea of him getting carted away for helping you makes your soul ache.

“That’s a bad idea. At least- at least definitely a bad idea without me going without you.”

“it’s worth a shot. we could go on a road trip, rent a big car, see the states or whatever, get the postcard, then on to canada. worst case scenario, your parents boot us and we head home. at least you can rest easy knowin’ you tried, and we could have a cool trip.”

It doesn’t sound half bad, when he puts it that way. Like no matter what, it wouldn’t be a major loss. But the idea of going anywhere your parents- just thinking about it makes you mad. They were terrifying, they weren’t good to you, they were assholes with prejudices. If some huge skeleton waltzed up to their door and demanded the whereabouts of their long-lost son: you think they’d kill him. If it got violent, he couldn’t survive, could he? His HP is way too low. On the other hand… seeing Nimbus again? Getting to fix any bad blood, making up, seeing him make stupid jokes again, that makes a small smile come to your face. That thought makes you happy. 

“Well… we would have to rent a car. And pack, and- would you want anyone to come with us?”

“your choice. your trip.”

You frown a little. If you get hurt, you might need a good healer with you, but the thought of Toriel knowing about such a potentially risky trip gives you the feeling you wouldn’t be able to go. Sans might want Papyrus to come along, but you feel like he’s too innocent for any of this. And Undyne and Alphys just seem… well, wrong. Somehow. And, Frisk comes to mind.

“What about Frisk?”

Sans looks at you, and you notice the little floating lights in his eyesockets are gone. It’s all black.

“why the kid?” he asks, keeping his tone light. Even though something in his expression tells you it’s darker than that.

“I don’t know… gut feeling… heh.”

“maybe, not them.”

“Why not?”

You don’t like that expression. It’s too… frozen.

“eh, they’re too young.”

“Okay, if you say so… uh, are you okay?”

He shakes his head and reignites his eyelights. 

“yeah, sorry. i’m fine. just got thinkin’ too hard, heh.”

“Okay, um. Other than them, I think it should just be us, if you’re okay with that. Smaller car rental, less shared shitty experiences. I mean, if you’re okay with Pap not coming.”

He thinks about that for a second, then shrugs.

“i think it’ll be fine. worst comes to worst, he gets a little fomo, but we can call him a lot.”

~~~~~  
Sans breathes a sigh of relief to himself. 

He… doesn’t have much against Frisk. They’d had a looooong talk about a week after everyone had made it to the surface, and the poor kid had essentially explained they were just as trapped in the resets as anyone else, and didn’t know what to do. People get different after enough resets: what they did was by no means right, no. They didn’t have a reason. But he knows how things change if you live the same week enough times. 

The looming fear that he’ll lose this ending: it’s been years and years, but he’s still afraid of it. That’s what makes Sans fear them. If something goes wrong- if they get angry? He’s so worried he’d lose you. Of losing this world, where he, and his friends, where his BROTHER, where everyone is free. And a tiny part of him is still afraid of Frisk trying to kill you. Those nightmares were as vivid as if he was awake. If you died, if Frisk killed you, he would… he would…  
…he would lose himself.

And, though the idea of leaving his brother here without his protection is worrying, he can trust the two of them together better. He’s come home panting and terrified enough times, hearing the two were home alone, to know Frisk has had nothing but good intentions. They understand his fears. They try to be as reassuring as possible. They try not to be insulted.  
So, just the two of you sounds good.  
That sounds good.

~~~~~

“Cool. I might want to get a little more strength back first, though.”

“good idea,” he says, coming back to himself. “in that case, we need to get you on some magic supplements or something.”

“Those exist?”

“oh, yeah. weak monsters need ‘em all the time.”

You wonder if he takes them, with his “one HP” deal, but you don’t want to make him think you think he’s weak. He seems to read your mind.

“and, no, if you’re wondering, i don’t take ‘em. i just get a lot of sleep.”

“Oh, okay. So my options are either sleep through the next week, or take magic supplements?”

“those would both speed things up, yeah. but i think you might wanna lean towards the magic sups’ first, ‘cause we gotta lotta shopping to do if we’re going on this trip. you gotta passport?”

~~~~~

Sans is thoroughly exhausted, but satisfied with the day’s work. While you stayed at home to get some rest, he went out and got some of the easier things done for your upcoming trip.

As his tricycle might not be the best way to cross the country, he rented a fairly large van. The guy at the rental place was a little concerned at the thought of this huge, intimidating-looking monster renting a white van, but after he cracked a couple of jokes, he wrote it off as nothing. Sans also bought one of those inflatable car-beds to put on the seats in back. Who needs expensive hotels when you can just curl up in a warm car? Besides, you’re plenty soft for him, he doesn’t need anything fancy. 

Once transportation was handled, he dropped by the store to grab snacks and sandwich-making gear. Upon texting you, he also found out your favorite candy: sour gummy worms. Personally, he doesn’t see the appeal of good candy covered in pain salt, but you’re the boss here. So now he has a family sized bag of those. Plus at least six bottles of ketchup. One to use, five to drink. 

Finally, a quick stop at the ATM to grab cash (because you never know who’s going to need money on a trip like this), and over to your house to grab some of your things. 

“heya,” he says, calling you. “whaddya need from your place?”

Apparently: toothbrush and toothpaste, hair brush, dry shampoo. A couple of changes of clothes, plus PJs. Your pillow and a quilted blanket that you said was necessary to bring along- though you refused to tell him why. And, finally, your phone and headphones. All of which Sans managed to fit in a monster-sized duffel bag with room to spare. So, for kicks and giggles, he dropped in a handful of your stuffed animals and an extra blanket. Those were in the back of your closet, along with several boxes of used tissues.   
That had made him worry about you a little. Especially since they all smelled like blood.

He stops in your room before leaving, taking a deep breath of the air. It smells like you. He sets the duffel bag on the floor and lays on your bed, inhaling deeply. He’s come to associate the smell with kisses and safety. He thinks he can even smell a hint of his own scent under yours, which he likes. It makes him feel like he’s a part of your life now.

“What happened?” you laugh, when you hear him sigh contentedly on his end of the phone.

“sittin’ in your room.”

“Aww. That’s… creepy.”

“yeah, yeah, probably. just feels safe.”

“Heh, I’m still in your room, too.”

A few minutes of contented silence.

“You’d better get home quick, *yawn*- I could use a nap partner.”

“on it.”

~~~~~

Once Sans gets home with the van, the bed, your things, and the groceries, he is absolutely pooped. 

“heya,” he says, announcing his presence at the door.

“BROTHER, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Papyrus demands, poking his head out of the kitchen. “I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU SINCE BREAKFAST!”

“had to go run some errands, me and clara are goin’ on a road trip tomorrow.”

“OH, RIGHT! GOOD SOULMATE BONDING TIME!”

“heheh, yeah. i oughta ask, by the way,” he says, scratching the back of his neck- “you don’t mind me leavin’, do ya? we can turn right back around if somethin’ happens, but i just thought i’d ask.”

“NO, OF COURSE NOT! CLARA TOLD ME ALL ABOUT YOUR PLANS TO FIND HER BROTHER WHEN I BROUGHT HER SOME LUNCH AN HOUR OR SO AGO: I’VE ALREADY MADE PLANS TO STAY WITH UNDYNE! IT WILL BE FINE. NOW GET UP THERE AND CHECK ON HER, SHE WAS ASKING FOR YOU EARLIER.”

“k. thanks bro, you’re the coolest.”

“I AM AWARE!”

Sans heads up the stairs with a bit more of a spring in his step. All the chores done, and you’ve got a plan. Not that he’s typically the kind of guy to rely on a plan: but having one does feel nice, admittedly. And, on top of it all, you’re waiting on him. Just you, him, and a nice, long nap. Or maybe you, him, and a handful more of kisses. He’s really starting to get addicted to your lips, honestly.

“- Look for the girl with the broken smile,” comes your little voice, humming from his room. Sans pauses, grinning, just outside, to listen to your song. He recognizes the words, but you’ve twisted the melody beyond repair.

“Ask her if she wants to stay a while. And she will be loved… and she will, be loved…” 

“i don’t mind, spending every day,” he hums, waiting for your response. He hears the tiniest gasp from inside, and a brief hesitation before you sing along.

“Out on your corner in the pouring rain?”

“look for the girl with the broken smile, ask her if she wants to stay a while.”

“And she will be loved… and she will, be loved…” 

He cracks open the door and looks inside, where your eyes are reflecting back at him from the dark. 

“oh, don’t look so surprised. maroon five got me out of some tough spots, y’know.”

“I love your voice,” you say, curiously. Your tone says, ‘huh, I just learned this about myself.’ He chuckles and strolls in, dropping onto the floor beside the mattress.

“yeah, well, you’d be the first.”

“I’m probably just the first to admit it. You need to make an audiobook or something.” 

“heh.”

“I’m serious. I could listen to you reading all day.”

“you interested in a recording of me reading fluffy bunny? ‘cause i’ve made one of those to help put pap to sleep if i’m busy, and it would only cost you the easy price of-“

“Oh, come on.”

“fine,” he says, motioning for you to scoot over and hopping up on the bed beside you. “i’ll give you a discount, but that’s just ‘cause i like you.”

“Heh, you like me,” you say, a little grin on your face.

“yeah, i do. alright, let’s get you some sleep.”

“‘Kay.”

He hesitates for a second, then gets an idea-

“hold on, c’mere.”

He helps you up on top of him, then pulls his hoodie over you, which pushes you even closer. You look a little flustered, but too comfortable to care. 

“this ok?”

“Mm-hmm…” your fingers poke at his shirt, trying to find out what’s giving it the padding it has. You can still feel each rib and bone under it, but they aren’t sharp or pokey like you think they ought to be. 

“while that feels amazing,” Sans says, laughing shakily, “‘m gonna hafta ask you to stop if either of us are gonna get any sleep.”

You nod, smiling to yourself- heh, you can hold your own in the feel-good department. But, whatever. For now you’re just going to try and get some rest.  
Tomorrow’s a big day.

~~~~~

Once you’re passed out, Sans sets an alarm on his phone (the settings seem to be confused, as he’s never touched the “clock” setting before in his life) for seven. You’ll have to be out pretty early if you’re going to get on the road in time. It also means he’s going to have to get up in a second to go set up the car bed so you can sleep a bit on the first stretch of the ride.

He stops and contemplates why he’s doing this. It’s so much work, and it might not add up to anything in the end, anyway. He knows there was a time when he wouldn’t lift an eyesocket for another person… save for maybe his brother. And even then it was a little tricky. It depended on the desperation, his emotions, the circumstance. And now, he’s just… helping this lost human put herself back together. And for what? Kisses or something? Because of “soulmates”? How are you paying him back? There… isn’t a reason. Just like there isn’t a reason he tries for Pap. Maybe he’s doing it for Paps because he feels like he owes him, for not being a good enough brother in comparison to him, but… you? You’re just as lost and as f*cked in the head as he is. Level ground. So why is he working for this, anyway?

‘because she’s just like you? and you wish you could have helped yourself?’

That can’t- that- that can’t be right. It just can’t be some personal fulfillment… because that would be selfish. And it would mean he’s using you as some sort of- toy- for his psyche. So, maybe… maybe he’s doing it because he loves you. Not in the same way he loves Pap, though just as much. ‘Soulmates’ isn’t a way you love someone. It’s the way you find the person you love. 

“Sleep,” you mumble, tapping lightly on his sternum. He strokes your lower back to make you less tense, and when you finally relax, he follows suit. 

“k.”

And he knows he loves you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright welcome back to desperate end notes with F.B.F.T.  
> allow me to explain
> 
> Social Anxiety: dont. dont do it. youll annoy them all  
> Me: i literally just want to post all of this stuff i wrote in separate works  
> Social Anxiety: well obviously you cant just say anything about it  
> Social Anxiety: .......  
> Social Anxiety: youre doing the skit thing aren't you  
> Me, banging together pots and pans: WHO WANTS MORE UNDERFELL BECAUSE I HAVE A LOT OF IT


	16. Fish Stick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Your party has gained another member!  
> *Fish Stick has joined the party!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally two separate chapters but it was too short  
> so bada bing bada boom welcome to some weird time lapses

The next thing you register is swaying gently on what feels like an air mattress, swaddled in blankets. You smell your pillow, which makes you think of lavender and soft honey-gold. Wherever you are, it’s a little musty, but not all bad. Like leather and cigar smoke and dust. Brown-orange and a deep green. Almost black. Not black. NOT black. Green. You yawn and stretch, surprising yourself when your hand hits something cold and smooth. You blink awake and see a car window against your fingertips.

“mornin’, sunshine.”

“Morning… where are we?” you ask, sitting up a bit. 

“van i got yesterday. we’re heading over to alphys’ place to get you magic supplements.”

“Cool… what’s this?”

You poke the yellow air mattress under you curiously- it seems to perfectly fit the shape of the seats, and dip down to fill the space in front of them, too. It even has a little inflatable headboard so you don’t hit the car door. 

“magic car bed,” he chuckles.

“What’s it do?”

“lets us sleep on the road without murdering our spines, i think.”

“And?” you ask, giggling. He grins at you in the rearview and says- in a Brooklyn accent-

“it can take a good slam or two, sweetheart, don’tchu worry.”

“Glad, ‘cause it might get a little wild up in here,” you fire back- also in a perfect 1920’s mobster fashion.

“hey, you’re pretty good at that,” he laughs. “thought i was the only one who did that.”

“Love it,” you laugh, stretching a bit more. “Thanks for getting me in here, by the way, sorry I didn’t wake up and help you out.”

“no prob. oh, pap says-“ he clears his throat: “i’m very incredibly sorry you are not awake so i can see you off, but i wish you the best of luck on your mission to find your brother, and i hope you find him very much because everyone should have a brother, because brothers are the best.” he also said to tell you good morning when you wake up. so good morning again.”

You start laughing at the long speech, wondering first how long it took Sans to memorize it, and second how often this happens. You know you’re doing the laugh-snort-laugh thing, but you’re too tired to care. 

~~~~~

You snort when you laugh. You snort when you laugh. You snort when you laugh. You snort when you laugh. You snort when you laugh. You snort when you laugh. You snort when you laugh. You snort when you laugh. His soulmate- YOU, snort when you laugh.  
Sans has to aim the rearview mirror away from his face so you don’t see him grinning like a dope. 

~~~~~  
Alphys is the person Sans chooses to go to for help with magic supplements, which you like, because you trust her. If she helped him with your burns, she can help with this. And right when you told her what you needed, she said she already had them, and she was expecting that you would probably ask. You have to admit you’re impressed. She gave you a diet plan (written out in cute, neat handwriting with hearts over the “i”s), a chart of how many supplements to take in what situation and at what time of day, and a cute pink plastic carrier for the simple pills. Well. It would have been fine and dandy and not for the dreaded words.

“I-I should warn you, t-t-these don’t taste great. You, um, you definitely need something to chase it d-down with after.”

Gross meds. Your (second) least favorite thing, besides your parents, probably in the whole world. But you smile and thank her, because how was she supposed to fix it? She made these, CUSTOM for YOU, and you’re going to be grateful. Even if it kills you.

What Alphys explains that they may make your magic come back with a bit of a surge, that makes Sans nervous. She said for the first few weeks, your magic would act like a tide. At the moment, she said, it’s like the ocean is dry. That’s not good. The magic supplements will pull in the water, but it will splash you a bit the first few times. And then it will wash back out- but it will leave some water behind. After doing it enough times, there will be enough water in the ocean that the waves coming back will just feel like ripples. Nothing worth noting.

That was relieving, if a little nerve-wracking. After a while it will get easier… hopefully…

“So, will this make, um, the burning worse?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“When I release magic, and I burn my hands-“

“Oh! No-no-no-no, you shouldn’t do that! I know that’s how you’ve been doing it in the past, but that was only because you didn’t know how to release it properly. I’m sure Sans can teach you how- it’s not too hard. No more burns.”

You look at her, wide eyed, before your face breaks into a huge smile.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes,” she says, smiling back- “It shouldn’t be an issue at all.”

You laugh a little… no more burning your hands… woah…

“what’d you think we were gonna do, berry?” Sans chuckles. “make ya keep goin’ through that?”

“I don’t know, I… I thought it would be like that forever.”

“nope.”

You can’t stop grinning for the rest of the instructions.

~~~~~  
“Do you have any idea where we’re driving?”

“well, i assumed your parents lived north, so i’m driving north.”

“Well, you’d be right. Here, I’ll, uh, I’ll put the address in the GPS.”

Sans notices that the laughter in your face died a little when your parents came up. And your hands are shaking a bit as you punch in the address. You’ve memorized it.

“it’s gonna be fine, y’know. i’m not letting them hurt you, and the worst they can do is yell.”

“I just feel like we’re never going to get that postcard. What if they shredded it or something?”

“maybe they have. how are we supposed to know? we gotta go find out. and, hey, here’s what we need to know: all we have to find out is if they still have it in one piece, and then i can pop in and grab it.”

“ROB them?!”  
“i mean, just take a quick shortcut in there, they won’t notice. we can ask first, like civilized adults, and then if that doesn’t work- well, we’re finding out what we gotta find out if it takes turning the house upside-down.”

“And then what?”

“and then we go celebrate somewhere.”

You giggle, and he relaxes. Everyone is safe. Everything is fine. And there’s plenty of road ahead.

~~~~~  
The two of you start to fall into a routine. After only two days in the car, there starts to be a comfortable rhythm to things. 

You set up a playlist in the first part of the drive, once you charge your phone, and plug that in. Luckily, Sans seems to be down with most of the songs you pick. He says he doesn’t like Alec Benjamin, because he’s ‘too sad’, but other than that your music preferences seem to line up just fine. So you take turns picking songs and passing a bag of chips back and forth. Every two or three hours you stop to stretch- and for you to head to the bathroom- but other than that it’s smooth sailing.

Sans is sure not to bring up the topic of your parents, because you get carsick and quiet if you have to talk about them. He also makes sure not to tell you how many hours away you are, because that doesn’t seem to be much better. He just hopes it’s a “get it over with and everything will be fine” type of thing. 

At the moment, the two of you are playing truth or dare, though truth seems to be the only option you’re picking. There aren’t many exciting dares you can do in the car.

“Okay, uh, truth or dare.”

“truth.”

“Um… worst irrational fear. Like, it could never happen in a million years, but you’re still scared of it. That kinda thing.”

(Sans, over the course of this ride, has gotten very good at coming up with the next best answer to the more personal questions.) 

“i don’t like getting knocked out. like, surgery or actually getting knocked out.” (This is true: it may not be his worst irrational fear, but it is true.)

“You’ve had surgery?”

“yup. hand fell off, right? wouldn’t reconnect like it’s supposed to. so they said they were gonna knock me out and use some magic-zappy-thing to fix it. i hated every second of it. felt vulnerable as hell.”

“Makes sense.”

“yep- your turn. truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“uh, your most irrational fear.”

“Oh, you’re gonna laugh.”

“try me.”

“Burning alive,” you sigh, at the irony of the statement.

“well, i can’t blame ya. though that isn’t exactly irrational, huh?”

“Hilarious. Fine, um- yeah, sorry, my parents. I don’t have a lot of irrational fears.”

He nods and shrugs.

“hey, at least it’s stuff you can avoid.”

“Uh-huh. You say as you drive me towards my parents’ house.”

He looks over at you- you’re smiling, but you’re pale again.

“you good?”

You hesitate, then nod. “Yeah, I’m okay. Truth or dare?”

“dare.”

“Hm… oh, do squiggles, we’re alone on the road!”

“squiggles?”  
“Nimbus used to do them when he drove me places-“ you hold your hands out like you’re holding a steering wheel, then twist it back and forth quickly. “The car wiggles, see?”

He tries it- maybe a bit more aggressively than you would normally suggest, but it definitely gets your heart going. 

“Woo!” you cheer, pumping your fists in the air.

“heheheh. alright, alright, truth or dare.”

“Truth!”

“favorite thing. out of every category, what’s your absolute favorite thing?”

You sit back and think about that. Your first thought is your bed, but you’ve had more than a few bad experiences there. Tears, burning, anger. Books? Nah, you love ‘em, but that isn’t your favorite thing. Um…

“I don’t know. Um… you. And blueberries.”

When you look over at him, he’s blue in the face and grinning.

“heh. well, hey, you got your two favorite things right now.”

You blink at him, confused, until he reaches into the backseat and pulls a carton of blueberries out of the grocery bag.

“was gonna save ‘em ’til after we’re on the way up to canada, but, this might be a better time.”

“Wha- thank you thank you thank you!” You immediately start in, taking deep breaths of the scent. “You are the BEST.”

“heh, not while paps is here, i’m not.”

“You want one?”

“oh- yeah, sure. thanks.”

You put the carton on top of the center console and snack on them for a while. A gas station exit comes into view and you point at it-

“Want to stretch really quick?”

“sure.”

It’s a 7-11, which you like, because they have pretty good bathrooms. The only people there, you notice with satisfaction, are two men having a shouting match, a green fire elemental who is talking with an employee about needing help filling up her car (you think this is a good idea), and a very tired-looking old lady carrying a cardboard box.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom, okay?” you ask, unbuckling, when Sans pulls the van in.

“sure. i’ll be out here.”

~~~~~  
Sans watches you head off to the bathroom, specifically as you pass the two guys by the front door. Not nervous, exactly, but wary. Once you’re inside, though, he figures you’re okay. Next he looks over at the old lady, who is approaching the two human tornados. She looks very timid, and very tired. He watches them chew her out for something, jabbing at the cardboard box, and then turn back to one another. She walks off, despondent.

“welp,” he sighs, pushing off the car and heading her way. “let’s see what this is about, shall we.”

When she sees him approaching, she seems to get really nervous. He dwarfs her in height, and even he admits he can look a bit creepy to new people. So when he gets over, he tries to look as warm as possible. Turn on the ol’ ice breaker mode.

“heya,” he starts- “somethin’ wrong? saw those guys yellin’ atcha.”

“O-Oh… w-well, t-thank you, um…”

Now Sans is nervous- she’s crying a bit, and she dabs at her eyes with a little tissue.

“I was o-on my way t-to bring my cat, S-Sylvie, to the vet, b-because she was ha-havin’ a little trouble w-with her babies, a-and, um, she didn’t make it.”

“‘m sorry,” he says, a bit shocked she’d spring that on him.

“O-Oh, thank y-you, there’s n-nothing that co-could be done. B-But she had her l-litter, a-and…” she cracks open the cardboard box to reveal five squirming white bundles of fur, all mewling and crying. Their eyes aren’t even open yet. “I-I can’t c-care f-for them… y-you wouldn’t l-like one, would you? I w-want my Sylvie’s babies t-to find good homes.”

Sans might as well have literal stars in his eyesockets, looking at the tiny things. They’re all perfectly white, not a spot on them. Tiny miracles. 

“can i hold one?” he says, lowly, not wanting to disturb them.

“Of course y-you can, sonny… here, take one.”

Gently, he reaches in and pulls one out. It tries to grab onto his hands with its claws, but it can’t get any purchase in the bone. He quickly pulls it to his chest so it can hold onto his hoodie. It’s soft, and warm, and trembling, and oh so tiny. It can sit in the palm of one of his hands with room to stretch. 

“I-I think he l-likes you.”

“you think?”

“Oh, just look at him, he f-fell right to sleep. Lazy little thing.”

“heh… yeah.”

“Would you l-like him? He’d be m-m-much happier with you than s-stuck in this box.”

“i mean- i’d have to ask clara first… geez, i don’t know anything about cats.”

“Oh, they’re e-easy. You just p-put out a box of sand and they’ll do their business, they’ll eat fine, they sleep p-plenty. M-My Sylvie was a sl-sleepin’ machine.”

A soft smile comes to his face at that. This sounds like his kind of pet. He looks up when you come out of the convenience store, stepping around the argument the two men are having, and come his way. When you see the tiny bundle of fur in his hand, you come over a little faster.

“Are those- kittens?” you breathe, looking in the box. He offers you the one in his hand, and you take it gingerly. One soft thing deserves another, Sans supposes. Just like with him, it grabs onto your shirt and curls up.

“yep.”

“They’re so sweet…” you look in the box at the rest of them. They’re all mewling at you like you’re the best thing they’ve ever seen- even if they can’t see yet. “Are you giving them away?”

“I-I am.” 

“What happened to their mom?” you ask, looking quickly from the tiny thing to her.

“Died just t-this mornin’, in my car,” she explains.

“I’m so sorry.”

“S-She was happy. Takin’ care of her b-babies ’til she passed. Would you like one? Your- um, friend- he was lookin’ and said he was gonna ask you.”

“Well… yes…” you hesitate a bit, the quickly look up at Sans, slightly nervous- he nods encouragingly. “Yes, we would. Can we take this one?”

“Yes, yes- oh, th-thank you, dearie!”

“It’s no problem at all! We’ll get- uh-“ you quickly peek at the kitten, then say, “we’ll get him situated in our car, he’ll be fine.”

“T-thank you… if you d-don’t mind me asking, what are you gonna name him?”

You look at the little thing, then look at Sans.

“Any ideas?”

He grins sheepishly, then shrugs. “i named him fish stick in my head.”

“Fish Stick it is.”

The lady laughs- the first time she’s laughed this morning- and smiles.

“Perfect.”

After getting instructions on milk and litter boxes and things like that, you part ways- you’re still cuddling Fish Stick until you have to get in the van. You make him a little t-shirt nest and set him on the dashboard to sit in the sun. He walks in a circle a few times, getting himself situated, and plops down in the fabric. 

“Night, Fish Stick,” you giggle. That name is so funny to you. 

“i can’t believe we just adopted a cat,” Sans says, sitting back in his seat and looking at you.

“We have to go by PetSmart really quick. There’s one in town, uh-“ your mouth gets dry when you remember- “by my parent’s house. Once we’re close enough, I’ll show you where it is. I used to go by and look at the gerbils. I hope it didn’t go out of business or anything.”

“perfect.”

“Don’t you mean purr-fect?” you joke, shooting him finger guns. His eyelights light up-

“clawsome.”

“Fur-effic.”

“paw-some.”

“You can’t use the same one twice!”

“are you paw-sitive?”

“Uh, fine- meow-nificent.”

As if tired of all the punning, Fish Stick yowls from his little nest. You laugh-

“Wow, SOMEONE has a cat-ittude.”

“heheh, that was hiss-terical.”

“These are getting paw-fu-“

The little kitten growls, then turns around in his bed to face away from you. Sans throws his hands up in mock defeat.

“we’ve been vetoed by a cat. time to drive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If your comment doesn't have a cat pun in it you're of-fish-ially cursed for life
> 
> HEY THERE'S FANART FOR THIS CHAPTER!!  
> By Fivellion: [<3](https://www.deviantart.com/fivellion/art/Fish-Stick-Blueberry-Magic-fan-art-838114279)


	17. Twisted Routines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which nothing makes sense.  
> In which nothing makes s  
> In which nothing ma  
> In which no  
> In whi  
> I  
> In  
> In whi  
> In which yo  
> In which you need t  
> In which you need that soul.

One thing you learn quickly about Fish Stick is that he is very odd. Even with his eyes closed, even over the sound of his own mews and a motor, even though he is too damn small to get off the dashboard without your help- he seems oddly attuned to the mood of the car, and tries to help.

When the GPS says, “forty-five minutes to destination”, and makes your stomach flip, he wobbles out of his t-shirt nest and demands that you hold him. On one hand, it might be coincidence, but it really seems like he’s trying to make you feel better. Or when Sans makes a bad joke, he’ll yowl (it reminds him starkly of Papyrus- he’s really starting to get attached to this cat) until you stop laughing. Despite peeing on the t-shirt for lack of a litterbox, and mewling constantly for food, he’s a pretty good companion. 

After a solid couple of hours, Sans pulls up into a field area by one of the older roads to sleep- Fish Stick continues mewling.

“You think he can go a whole night without anything to eat?” you ask, concernedly petting his back.

“i think he can last a few hours. we’ll just take a quick power nap. you want to look up if regular milk works? i think i have a carton of that in a cooler.”

“It doesn’t, I googled it earlier.”

“hm. well, a nap will be fine, i think…”

“We can bend a couple of speed limits, can’t we, buddy? But Sans looks like he’s about to pass out, and I can’t reach the gas pedal, so…”

Sans looks at the tiny thing, kneading its paws on you and meowing, and holds out his hands a little.

“can i hold ‘im?”

“Sure,” you say, handing him over. He cups him in one hand, letting him hold onto his sleeve for support.

“it’s so small. how are these things supposed to survive, y’know, without the mom?”

“They aren’t. That’s why we stepped in.”

Fish Stick bites his hoodie sleeve, pulling on it. Sans assists him in getting it over his hand, and covers him up with it. He meows in confusion for a second, but quickly falls back asleep. 

“we’re gonna take good care’a ya, aren’t we, buddy?”

“Aw, he’s already asleep. You’re pretty good at that.”

“thanks…” he pauses, but when he feels his eyesockets closing, he shakes his head sharply. “alright, i’d better hit the hay. time to go back in the nest, fish.”

He shakes him gently out of his sleeve and into the t-shirt, then hops out of the car, goes around, and jumps in the bed in back. You just crawl through. Though there isn’t enough bed space to lay out, you doubt you would if you had it. You like the feeling of being protected, held to Sans, while you sleep. The safety of it.

“oh, hey, before you pass out, you need to take your magic thingies.”

“Oh. Right.”

“hey, don’t sound too excited,” he scoffs. “they’re just in the little pink case, right there.”

You grab them, along with a handful of blueberries. With a deep breath, you pop it back, swallow, and eat the blueberries as fast as possible. Ew. This thing really IS gross. But it’s not as bad as liquid NyQuil. That stuff is jet fuel dyed purple. It neither smells, nor tastes, like purple, by the way. Suddenly, you feel- your heart?- lurch painfully, and magic pools in your eyes and hands before washing back. 

“what happened?” he asks, when you go rigid in your seat.

“Ow…”

“you okay?”

“My chest hurts- why does it hurt? I thought it was just going to be gross.”  
Oh. Right, of course your soul would feel side affects of magic going in and out. Alphys must have assumed you already knew.

“i’d guess that’s just your soul. it’s probably not taking the, uh, refeeding too well. c’mere.”

You lay down, with another painful pang in the center of your chest.

“you have to relax, or it’ll hurt worse.”

With a long sigh, you force your limbs to go slack. He rubs your sternum gently, seeping tiny bits of healing magic in. You take them well, even though he can feel you tense up a bit when the waves come in and out. It’s just a tide, he thinks. It will even out with time.

“is it getting better?”

“A little. Thank you.”

“no prob. wake me up if it gets worse, ok? now try to get some sleep.”

When you drift off, he quickly follows. His chest aches a bit, as well, for want to make you feel better.

~~~~~

He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, 

and it’s

all 

his

FAULT-

“Sans, wake up… hey, wake up.”

Of course Frisk only killed HIM, of course Frisk only wanted to take HIM away-

“It’s just a nightmare, it’s okay…”

And now all he’s got is a handful of dust, a scarf and an old book-

“Sans!”

And IT’S HIS FAULT HE DIDN’T-

“Sans, wake up!”

He yells when he finally manages to force himself awake. The first thing he sees is the tiny human in his line of vision; his first instinct is to summon an attack, but… once he comes to his senses a bit, he remembers.

You. His soulmate. All good intentions. Scared, now, because of him.  
Paps is alive, and at home.  
Pap is safe. You are safe.  
It’s been years since the last reset.

“Sans? C’mon, you’re scaring me.”

He realizes his eyesocket is on fire, and he blinks it out. You gently hug him, trying to anchor him back to reality.

“Hey… shh… it’s okay.”

“i- heh-”

“It’s okay.”

“he’s…”

“Papyrus is fine, I’m fine, you’re fine. We’re safe.”

“he’s safe.”

“Yes. Relax.”

He lets his body go from rigid to slack- you’re at least assured he’s snapping out of it. He holds onto you a bit tighter.

“sorry ‘bout that, berry.”

“It’s alright.”

“how’d you know?"  
You reach up and brush the tears off his face with your hand. 

“You were crying in your sleep.”

“oh,” he mumbles, embarrassed, wiping a few off himself.

“It’s okay. Crying is okay. You need to call him?”

He takes a few breaths, but finally shakes his head ‘no’. 

“i’m ok. thanks, though.”

You pause, just staring at him, looking vaguely frustrated. Lost.

“really, it’s ok now. i’m good.”

“Sans, you look like you haven’t slept in ages. You have dark circles under…. well, under your dark circles,” you laugh, sadly. “You need to get some real rest.”

“and what are you supposed to do? you’re the one who needs to get better, you know. hold up-“

He tilts your chin up a bit, taking a closer look at your eyes. They’re blue-gold now, the two colors fading and blending in ways that he is very not fond of. If golden eyes were a sign of not needing an outlet, then this can’t be healthy. 

“your eyes are blue.”

“Oh- probably, yeah. Been holding back for an hour or so, but it’s a lot easier, it doesn’t-“

He shakes his head “no” and takes your hands.

“i wanna do a longer lesson on this later, ok? about heats or outlets or whatever. but right now we’re gonna do the short version.”

“Sans, there isn’t a hurry, it’s fine-“

“you can’t keep treating this like it isn’t a big deal. it is. you let one thing slide, you trigger an avalanche. that would kill you. you’re- you can’t… i couldn’t…” he takes a long breath and shakes his head. “your body couldn’t withstand another blow-up. so watch me.”

He lights both of his hands up with the blue fire. At first, you look concerned, but he shakes his head.

“they’re both attacks: but they’re controlled. they’re held a little bit away from my hands, see? so i don’t get hurt. you might need to go further, because you can feel heat and all that; and you might need more room for error. just try moving it away from you. use your soul to direct it.”

Gingerly, you let the restrained magic release, trying to hold it away from you. It goes a bit further than you would have liked, and comes back the second you lose focus to scorch you, but it sort of works.

“see?”

“Ow.”

“i can heal that. keep going until it’s all tired.”

After a minute or two of holding the circles of magic three inches away from your hands, they flicker and die. You slump forward into Sans’ lap suddenly, passed out. He hurriedly makes sure your vitals are stable, then pulls some blankets around you and hops back into the front seat.

“we gotta go, berry. rest.”

And with that, nearly falling asleep on the steering wheel, he pulls back onto the near-empty highway.

~~~~~  
You have groggy dreams and the occasional pang in your chest, but other than that, nothing too bad. Something moves your legs at one point and sits at the end of your bed, rubbing your shoulder. It asks you to wake up. You do not. 

“we’re here… you ready to get up?”

Even when you feel yourself being sat up in place, when you have to move to someone’s arms, you do not open your eyes. You just mumble and try to hold on. 

That soul… it’s MEANT to be yours, it’s MEANT to be collided with your own. It’s meant to. And you can’t reach, it’s just six inches away. Your chest aches again, rather sharply. 

“we’re here, c’mon, you… you gotta wake up.”

You ignore the voice. You focus on the soul instead. The closer you get, the sharper the pain is, but you know if you could just get close enough, you could make it all stop. You don’t know how you know this. You just know it to be true. The soul is in pain, suddenly- you can see it. It’s frantic, and beating too hard, and scared. You want to calm it. You want to hold it, calm it, and send out your own magic to soothe it until it’s safe and happy. 

“wake up, you’re scaring me…”

It’s sad, that’s what it is. Sad, and frightened, and desperate. It wants you to open your eyes. You get the feeling if you open your eyes, you won’t be able to see what you see anymore. You need to see. You need to make sure that soul is safe, like yours is safe. 

“please?”

The soul turns, reaching out to yours. You reach back- the pang makes you tense. You’re so tired. You whimper just the littlest bit, trying to breach the inch of space keeping you from that soul… 

and your eyes open.

“i- clara,” Sans breathes, relieved.

“Hey…” you respond. He has you held bridal style, your head in the crook of his arm. You don’t remember getting in that position. “Uh… what happened?”

“you… uh, nothin’. just took you a sec to wake up. um. how do you feel?”

“Like I got kicked in the chest by a horse.”

“yeah, i figured. you wanna stay here while i run in and grab the stuff for fish? we’re right in the parking lot for petsmart, it’ll be really fast.”

“Okay, just, go fast.”

“i will. you wanna hold ‘im? he’s been meowing for you since- well, since a few minutes ago.”

“Sure.”

While you expected him to go up front and pull him out of his nest, instead Sans reaches into his pocket. He pulls out the tiny thing, then hands him over to you. You don’t ask questions. You just cradle him gently and coo until he falls asleep.

~~~~~

Sans doesn’t know what to do. Your soul is practically throwing itself at him, no wonder it’s in pain. Your soul wants to bond nearly as much as his does. Maybe more. And- and you nearly didn’t wake up. What if you were just in that coma, out here in the middle of who knows where with nobody to help? He doesn’t know what he’d do. 

A combination of putting the magic in, with the supplements, and taking it out by releasing it, must have messed up your system somehow. Meaning you’re sick to the soul at the moment, and he doesn’t understand what he has to do. He knows he needs to bond with you to solve this, but this just isn’t the time for that. Bonding is essentially the equivalent of a monster marriage and- and he couldn’t just- bonds are PERMANENT. You can’t just pick and choose: you’re tied to your mate forever. That’s not something you can just go back and undo whenever you want. That can make or break a relationship. But right now isn’t the time to think about that. Errands. Errands first.

He’s scared of leaving you, for fear you’re going to get seriously hurt. Range is a real thing. If he pulls his soul “out of range”, he doesn’t know what would happen to you. So he’s going to make this as fast as humanly possible.  
Heh- no. Not as fast as HUMANly possible. As fast as he wants it to be.

“watch her, k?” he instructs Fish Stick, kissing you on the forehead. “don’t let anythin’ bad happen to her. i’ll be right back with somethin’ for ya, ok?”

He meows, as if in response, causing the both of you to laugh. And then Sans shortcuts into the store.

*Blip*, cat aisle. Perfect.  
*Blip*,*Blip*, *Blip*, *Blip*, litter, litterbox, kitten bottle, formula. All of the “kitten” things are in one section, which helps. After a second of thought, he also grabs a tiny bed with goldfish printed on it. *Blip*, front counter. The poor cashier jumps a mile when Sans appears.

“sorry ‘bout that, i’m kinda in a hurry,” he explains. 

“U-uh… no problem.”

One thing Sans likes about teenagers nowadays is that they’ve always seen something weirder than whatever monster you are. So they aren’t scared of anything. They’re just mildly surprised. And they often accept their circumstances pretty fast. This one in particular is a blond, blue-eyed girl who rings Sans up as quickly as possible, after seeing that he needs to get out as soon as he can. As soon as everything is in the bag, Sans slaps down the cash and shortcuts away. *Blip*. He hopes she notices the five dollar tip he left her. 

When he shows up by the car, not sixty seconds after he left, he quickly checks on you. You’re fine. He’s never breathed a bigger sigh of relief.

~~~~~  
You get one of the hot water bottles out of the back (they weren’t meant to be hot, they just happened not to be in the cooler) and mix some of the formula in, prep everything, and feed Fish Stick. He drinks eagerly, tiny paws holding onto the tip of the bottle as if to shove more in his mouth. As soon as he’s all fed, he passes out into the little goldfish bed. 

“There,” you say, satisfied. You look a lot more relaxed now that the kitten is taken care of, Sans notices with relief.

“yep. now we gotta take care of you.”

You smile tiredly and let him dig out a pop tart from the bag in back and hand it to you. It may not have a toaster to toast in, but you don’t mind. It tastes fine lukewarm. As a bonus, the pain in your chest is starting to subside. 

“ok, your turn to call some shots. first, how do you feel?”

“Fine, now. Getting everybody fed helps.”

“glad. alright- you feel good enough for us to go talk to your parents?”

Your stomach takes a swoop, and you wonder for a moment if you’ll be able to keep down this pop tart. But you can’t run away from this forever. Now or never.

“Don’t ask. We just… we just gotta drive there.”

“gotcha.”

He hops into the front, letting you stay in the back on the bed. You close your eyes as you pull out of the parking lot, and keep them tightly closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the weird soul dream didn't make much sense-  
> basically, just imagine all normal human desires were stripped away, and you were left with just your soul. your core.  
> now imagine going into the pov of your soul.  
> and finally, imagine being able to examine and reach out to other souls.
> 
> sorry for taking so long lmao  
> be back on the 22nd


	18. Pitch Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we all bond over our hatrid of two certain individuals...

Sans watches you carefully as you sway in the backseat. You’re pale as a sheet, but you almost seem peaceful. It’s like you’re dead. No- no, don’t think that way, he admonishes himself. You’re alright. You’re just, well, terrified. 

He looks up at the address, then around at the houses. Well, this should be it. There’s nothing particularly off about it. Sans admits he was expecting something creepy or wrong, but seeing it, he acknowledges that wouldn’t make much sense. They’re just normal people. Well. Normal assholes. They don’t make special houses for assholes, though. He pulls up near the front and stops, looking back at you.

“we’re here.”

You nod and lean forward- “Promise me you won’t let them touch me.”

After a split second of considering making a promise, he nods too. “i promise. they won’t lay a finger on ya, berry.”

“They might try to grab me. Or you. Don’t let them hurt you, either.”

“heh. you’d be surprised how fast i can dodge,” he murmurs. He knows how quickly he’ll throw hands- or rather, attacks- with anyone who even THINKS about grabbing you. He isn’t any concern.

“Whatever they say doesn’t matter to you. Don’t let it bother you, alright? You’re coming to help, but… this is my fight.”

He can’t argue with that.

“ok. c’mon, you nearly burned to death. you can do this.”

You nod, and get out of the car. When your eyes open, he’s not surprised to see that they’re blue. Glowing. Fiery- like his eyesocket when shit’s about to go down. You’re definitely going to need a magic release after this.

~~~~~

This place has a smell. Maybe, under different circumstances, you might classify it as a light pink. Scented candles, the rusty grill, and the sweet, half-rotted wood on the front porch. But now you just classify it as black. There is no other scent that is as dark, as foreboding, as terrifying to you as this one. Because smelling it means you are about to be in a lot of pain.

Well.

You will burn this place to the ground if that’s what it takes to stay safe.  
At least ashes don’t smell black.

~~~~~

Sans knocks for you. Near immediately, a little woman with platinum-blonde hair comes to the front door. Her sleeves are rolled up, and she has dish soap on her shirt. He thinks it’s a pretty okay front to put up. Domestic, sweet. He can see where you got those golden eyes from.

However, when she sets those eyes on YOU…

The immediate look on her face is that of utter disgust. Like you’re a bug she just found, smashed and half dead, on the bottom of her shoe. She looks like she’d like to scrape you off on the sidewalk. Then she turns those judging eyes on Sans, silently. Not so much as a hello. Her expression does not change. He meets it with a piercing look of his own, then says, quietly,

“you’re clara’s mom, huh?”

She doesn’t answer, but instead chooses to stick her head back into the house and yell,

“CHUCK! Clara’s back!”

She does not sound excited. 

~~~~~

When you met your mother’s eyes, you went back to the last time you saw them. When she slammed the door in your face, with a stab wound and a brand in your back, with no shoes, in freezing weather. She is wearing the same expression as she did then. However, you hate it more when she turns to Sans. Nobody deserves to be looked at like that except for you. You are the reason she hated you. Nobody else has anything to do with it.

“CHUCK! Clara’s back!”

Not your dad. Shit…

“What the hell d’ya mean?!”

“Your f*ckin’ daughter, that’s what I mean!”

You hear the familiar gait before you even see him. Balding on top, bushy eyebrows, a potbelly. If he wasn’t looking at you with such anger, he might look like a fairly reasonable person. He is not a very reasonable person.

“Why’re YOU back here?” he snarls.

“I didn’t come here to fight with you, or to say what you did to me was wrong.”

Sans looks at you in surprise, but you just take his hand.

“I came here because we’re looking for Nim- Gareth. And we just need the postcard with his new address.”

“And why in hell would we give that to YOU? Oh, I’m sorry,” he scoffs- “You and your BUDDY here. What’s he, your therapist? Goin’ on a road trip up here with your therapist, trying to make it all better-“

“hey,” Sans says lowly, fighting the urge to blast his face in, “i’m gonna hafta ask you to speak to her with a little more respect. she didn’t do anything wrong. she just wants to see her brother again.”

“Well, excuse me!” he shouts, angrily. “Didn’t do anything wrong?! She oughta be a monster, like you! Magic freaks have places to go to, y’know! Like ASYLUMS!”

Sans feels your hand start trembling in his, and he strokes it with his thumb. How dare he. How DARE he say that to you. How dare he even look you in the EYES.

“Dad, I-“

“Don’t f*ckin’ call me that, freak! You better still have that little reminder I gave you when you left-“  
“I DIDN’T LEAVE,” you snarl, snapping your head up and glaring at him. “YOU MADE ME LEAVE. YOU NEARLY KILLED ME.”

“DAMN RIGHT!”

He lunges forward before Sans can register it and pulls at your shirt- Sans pulls you away, guarding you with his body- but not before he saw the scar. It’s circular, and white, raised slightly on your skin. That’s for a later conversation.

“Get outta the way, monster, she oughta-“

“i could end you in less time than it would take for you to yell one more shitty thing at her,” Sans says, deadpan- “but i won’t. don’t like fighting, see? so maybe it’s best if you just take a good step back and get yourself together.” Your dad growls angrily- but Sans is distracted from that for a moment.

He feels a sharp tug in his soul: that’s a familiar feeling, but it’s distant. It almost feels as if… as if yours cracked. Oh, no. He turns around to look at you- your eyes are burning blue like he’s never seen before, and he can feel the heat of your magic on his hand. Your soul CRACKED. He has to get that card and get you out of here as soon as possible. Admittedly, though, he thought it would be a lot harder than having it shoved into his hand.

“Take it and leave,” your mom says, coldly, turning and walking back in the house.

Both Sans and your dad stand, flabbergasted, staring at the card in his hand.

“thank you,” he says automatically, shoving it in his pocket.

“You can’t TAKE that!” he yells.

“He’s right,” you say, pulling it out of Sans’ pocket. He protests, but you hold it tightly in your hand. “YOU can’t. I can. It’s addressed to me.”

“You little bitch-!” he lunges once again, this time at Sans-

Sans dodges quickly, scooping you up and out of the way of his reach. Just before shortcutting, he adds, “and by the way, asshole. i’m her soulmate.”

~~~~~

Sans is kind of freaking out. Well, no. Really freaking out. And, no, he doesn’t show it: he’s not that type of person. But he’s starting to panic a little inwardly. Ever since the two of you got in the van, you have only said one thing: “I could really use a drink.”

After that, you have been completely and entirely silent. You won’t speak to him, to Fish Stick, to yourself. You read the postcard over and over again, occasionally falling asleep in your seat. Sans knows you don’t have good dreams, but whenever he tries to say anything, you just shake your head and sit facing away from him. Your eyes are bluer than he’s ever seen them, but you won’t release your magic. You won’t talk about, or let him look at, the scar on your back.

He knows this when he sees it, because he’s seen it in himself.  
You haven’t given up, not yet… but you feel too tired to keep trying. 

There’s a difference.

And your soul is still in pain, he thinks, but he isn’t sure. Because your soul song has gone silent, too. There isn’t any good sign, any bad sign. There just isn’t anything. The only sign of still being here that you’ve given him is when he takes your hand sometimes. You don’t pull away. You relax a little bit. Not nearly enough, no, but still. Sometimes, to fill the silence, he’ll try to make cat puns at Fish Stick, or try to talk to you. You don’t respond, but you listen. He can tell you’re listening.

“they’re wrong. about everything.”

You look at him a little, so he keeps going on.

“especially your d- uh- him. he doesn’t deserve you. you’re too good for him. and… i don’t know, maybe you’re too good for me, too. but you told me i shouldn’t let what they said get to me. and i know it got to you. they’re wrong.”

You look away.

“you don’t belong in an asylum, or with them, or anywhere else except… i don’t know. i want to say with me, but that doesn’t feel right. you make a place for yourself no matter where you are.” He looks up when you take his hand. “and i can’t fix it. i want to. i want to, but i can’t.”

You look at him for a long minute, and nod slowly. Finally, you just hand him the postcard. You can’t think to do anything else. He takes it with his free hand, driving with his knee, and starts to read. 

‘Heya, sis. I don’t know if you’re still going to be in the house when you get this, or what, but I thought I’d let you know where I am. I’m living in Canada now- (11-156 Southrock Rd. SE) and I hope you come to visit someday. I’m sorry I left. I promise I can explain. Nimbus.’

Sans imagines for a second it was Pap who left, and he’d wrote him this. It’s too vague. He would want answers. He would be worried. He would hate himself, he would feel like he was the reason his brother left. He imagines that’s essentially how you feel right now. On top of everything your father said… he has no idea how bad it is.

Well. He has some idea.  
At least you haven’t seen your brother die.  
At least you haven’t died.  
At least you have that.

All he can do is just stay here and keep telling you that what they said was wrong, and hope that you can listen. This isn’t like you. This isn’t you. You’re hurting, and you recoiled into yourself. But when you come back, he’ll be waiting. And he’ll bring you home and bond you, and then MAYBE everything will be fine. He knows he’ll try his damn best to make it fine. 

Worst comes to worst, he thinks, you’re this way forever.  
And he just gets to stay with you for all that time.

~~~~~

He’s trying so hard. He doesn’t seem like the type to try, so, so hard- for ANYONE- but he’s trying to bring you back with everything he has in him. It hurts to know that you’re not coming back by choice. That you could try as hard as he is to pretend like everything is normal and make him feel better. You’ve shown him how good you are at putting up false fronts, and you could do it again now. And you don’t understand why you won’t.

You keep thinking, ‘why don’t I try?’ and you can’t come up with a logical answer. It doesn’t make any sense. You’re just tired. And worried. This isn’t you, but neither is that “everything’s fine” side you tend to put up. You don’t know who the real Clara is, and you’re too tired to figure it out. If Sans loves the broken you, and he loved the fine you, and all the little things in between, maybe you should feel more comfortable still recovering from yesterday. But you aren’t.

Maybe he just feels bad for you. Maybe he’s just going to bring you to see your brother, take you home, and cut things off. You couldn’t blame him. You honestly couldn’t- you’ve dragged him along through so much. 

He said “maybe you’re too good for me, too.” You don’t know what he really meant.

~~~~~

Nimbus is thinking about you, yet again, pacing around his house and wondering what’s changing.

Your soul cracked, he could feel it. Which means you’re very much alive. He read tons of things about souls, soul bonds, soul connections, once monsters came to the surface. He did home meditation, watched videos, read books upon books upon books, and found faint connections to you. He thought maybe it was just his imagination, some sort of placebo telling him that it had worked.

But he knows, definitely, when he woke up in the middle of the night with a distant pang in his chest, that you’re alive. And you’re stressed, scared, sad, and hurting. That scares him. He thought he might not have known about enough things in time to know if you died, so he couldn’t feel it. But now he feels something, and he’s waiting for the cold stab that will tell him that you’re gone. 

The other problem stands as well, though: you seem to be getting closer. He just doesn’t know how much closer, or how, or with who. But he knows one thing for sure. You’re coming to him. He hopes he can stay alive long enough to meet you.

~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it was Fivellion that mentioned the parallel between emotions and mentl health a while back, and family life was the main cause of a lot of that... Rebuilding!! Is important!! Time heals a heck of a lotta wounds, and it gets better :)
> 
> Next update when? Heck if I know. Let's aim for the 26, but I'll probably be posting and updating other things between now and then.
> 
> HEY!!! TODAY IN THE COMMENTS ASK CLARA AND SANS QUESTIONS!! (ie, not asking them questions, but questions about things about them that might not come up in this fic bc i like practicing worldbuilding and character development)  
> doesn't matter how many there are! Knock yourselves out!!


	19. Back On Your Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you snap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DONT BE SCARED BY THE BEGINNING THIS IS A FEELGOOD CHAPTER

It’s been two days. You haven’t eaten anything but half of a pop tart, and you won’t drink any water. You continue to refuse to release your magic, despite your eyes glowing bluer than the sea. You woke up last night crying, and Sans didn’t speak. That was your moment. You needed it. Even if it hurt like hell to let you be on your own.

It’s the third hour driving today. Sans is aiming slightly in the direction of a bar nearest the border, hoping against all hope that it will be something like Grillby’s. Heh, maybe he shouldn’t have a habit of talking to kids with emotional issues at pubs, but it always seems to work out pretty well. And, who knows, maybe you’ll loosen up after getting a little food in you. He’s really started missing your laugh.

It’s nearly lunch, but Sans doesn’t even offer. He knows you aren’t going to eat. But you do prep a couple of things and slink into the back to feed Fish Stick. That’s something, at least. Taking care of a pet or a plant is supposed to help with depression. Maybe that’s how he’s started feeling better after helping you, now that he thinks about it. Helping you is helping him. 

~~~~~

You have to tell him. 

He needs to know you won’t be mad.

He doesn’t need that guilt on his conscience. 

~~~~~

“This isn’t what you signed up for in that bakery.”

Sans looks around at you when you speak up, but you don’t look at him. You keep looking at Fish Stick as if you aren’t saying anything at all.

“You just wanted to love someone, and you wanted someone to love you. This is way too complicated for that. I understand if you don’t want to be a part of this anymore. You can leave if you want. I’m sure I can rent a car or something from here and go the rest of the way by myself.”

Sans is incredulous. You still- after everything, after all of this- think he’s walking out on this. When you don’t look up, he reaches back and tilts your chin up a bit, chuckling sadly.

“why don’t you trust me when i tell you i love you?”

You put your hand over his, but don’t look at him.

“Because Nimbus said the same thing.”

He pulls off the road into the nearest little spot of grass, parking quickly. Then he shortcuts in the back and pulls you into his arms before you have a second to breathe. He kisses you on your forehead, on your scalp, on your temples, between your eyes. He kisses you as if if he does it enough, he can kiss away your doubts. And finally, he whispers,

“well, i mean it.”

You lean your head back onto his shoulder, press your forehead into his jawbone, and take a shaky breath. He squeezes you- his soul hurts, it keeps lurching and swelling and twisting for you. He wants so desperately to bond here and now, to comfort this pain. He just feels like you deserve to be happy. The same feeling he feels with Papyrus. Why is it so much harder for you?

“your soul cracked,” he informs you, softly. “i don’t know how to fix it.”

You nod, considering that. “That’s okay.”

“i’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind.”

He presses his face into the space between your neck and shoulder. You pet his head and murmur-

“I’m sorry I cut off.”

“’s ok… just, lemme hold’ja for a sec, ok?”

“Okay.”

He sits, wrapped around you, humming. You hum back a bit, even though you can feel yourself start to crack. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“shh… it’s alright. i’ve gotcha. ‘m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t- I just- I don’t get it. I have to be making you miserable, right? Just… doing all of this. Why do you want to stay?”

He thinks about that for a moment, then shrugs. “because i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

You answer, after a brief pause- “Thank you for not… for not leaving.”

“yeah,” he breathes, rocking you back and forth with him. “i love ya. i’d never leave ya.”

“I love you.”

After a minute or so, Fish Stick paws at your arm and mews. You look down, to find that he’s trying to grab at the bottle, which you’ve lowered into your lap. 

“Heheh,” you sniff, rubbing his tiny head with a thumb- “I gotta finish feeding this little guy. Sleep wouldn’t happen to fix soul cracks, would it?”

“dunno. i’ll take him, you can take one of your magic dose thingies, and we can find out, ok?”

“Okay.”

He gets Fish Stick settled in his little bed on the dashboard of the car, and helps you release your magic. It exhausts you much faster, with the crack in your soul, but you manage not to burn yourself this time. It’s odd that you can relax without burned hands. It feels too good to be real. 

“they did this to you,” he mutters to himself, holding your hands to help give you a little healing magic as you go. “THEY made you think you had to bottle it up like this- little farther out, there you go- and… god, i can’t believe you didn’t die then and there…”

“What did I say about not letting it get to you?” you admonish quietly.

“berry, he said- he said you were supposed to be in an ASYLUM, that’s f*cked up!”

“I know. I know it is.”

After a moment, you ask,

“You don’t think that, right?”

“wh- no? you didn’t really think i…” you look back down at your hands with a slight cringe. “no, berry…”

More anger burns in his soul. Your parents did this to you. You could have led an entirely normal life, and been happy, and everything could have been fine, but they just had to hurt you like this. They had to make you anxious and careful and scared and… and… messed up. But- no. No. Every flaw, and problem, and scar, is exactly what builds you into the person he loves so much. He wouldn’t change you, that’s just not true. He just wants to lighten your burden.

“no. ‘course not.”

After a minute or two, you don’t have any more magic left to exhaust, and you relax a bit.

“Yeah, I, uh… I didn’t- I didn’t know what you thought.”

“what, you think the monster is gonna condemn magic?”

“No. Humans who got stuck with it.”

“you aren’t “stuck” with it. you gotta gift. you just don’t know how to use it.”

“Feels like one hell of a curse to me.”

He shakes his head ‘no’ and bumps a kiss to the back of your hands. That, at least, puts to bed a couple of your worries from the past few days. (Geez, being worried is exhausting. You’re so tired of it.) You dig around the pill box until you can get your hands on a couple, popping two back to make up for the one you didn’t take yesterday, and chase it down with some water. 

“Okay… catch me,” you say, as you start to sway a bit in your seat. Your energy is entirely drained. 

Sans catches you (to your relief) and gently helps you under the blankets, sliding in after you. You let your face press next to his, hold his hand, and thank him silently. You’ve said every thank you and sorry you can think to say.

“whaddya say we get drinks in a couple stops? i’ve been steering us towards a good place if you’re up for it.”

Well… if he’s been heading there anyway… “. . .You know what? Yeah. Hell yeah,” you say, with a smile. “We’re gonna get so drunk you’re not gonna have any choice but to kiss me stupid.”

“like the sound of that,” he purrs. “but i could do it sober, too.”

You fall asleep held locked in his arms, held close for fear of losing you again to yourself. This is all going to turn out okay.

~~~~~

Things have gotten a lot easier since yesterday. You wake up feeling refreshed- a drastic change from the past few days- and happy. Relieved, almost. Like you passed some major obstacle that you didn’t even realize you were up against. All that worry- about Sans leaving, or being angry with you, or believing what your parents said, was, well. Burning you alive. In a more metaphorical sense. It was eating you from the inside. Getting past that feels like a huge weight has been lifted off your chest. You can finally breathe. And right now, you could go for some breakfast, and talking, and stretching, and a nice, long drive.

Sans, however. Sans is OUT. Tired, sleepy, crashed, however you want to put it. Not in a sad way, or even a nightmare way. He’s just out like a light, still holding you. Whenever you try to wiggle out of his arms (because surely driving this huge car can’t be too hard, huh, with a little determination!) he’ll grunt, shift you back, and give you a sleepy nuzzle- all before passing out again.

“Hey,” you insist, nudging his skull with your forehead. “We gotta head out, sleepybones.”

He flicks his eyelights half-open and gives you another sleepy kiss, then shakes his head. “five more minutes, berry… just gimme five more minutes with ya.”

You think about that for a minute before finally relaxing. He chuckles, thanking you. You count- you really, honestly count each second until you hit 300, before nudging him again with your head. You’d use your arms, but they’re pinned in front of you, hands all tangled in his hoodie.

“It’s been five minutes.”

“i could hear ya counting,” he sighs, laughing a bit. “you’re pretty dang determined to escape, huh? what’s so wrong with hangin’ out here for the day?”

“We have to move! I wanna get to Canada.”

“you mean you wanna go get drinks.”

“Well, that too.”

“alright,” he says, stretching out. “we can get goin’ in a sec. need to call pap today. miss ‘im.”

“Then maybe you should get up.”

“not yet. missed you, too. few more minutes.”

Missed you…? Oh- right. You did kind of, well, not talk. For a bit. You smile to yourself, trying your very best not to fall asleep again. You’ve got too much energy right now. Too much energy- that’s what happens to you when you’re happy. Sans, though, his anxiety is what keeps him awake. When he’s happy, he feels like he can relax. Unfortunately for him, much as he wants to pull you into it, you know you wouldn’t be able to stay asleep if you tried.

“you’re really pretty when you wake up,” he mumbles, cupping your cheek in his hand. “you know that?”

“You’re a dork,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“you like it.”

“I do,” you sigh melodramatically, shaking your head. He laughs. 

“we’re just a couple of idiots with a van, aren’t we?”

“Couple of screwed-up, lovestruck idiots with a van.”

“a screwed-up, lovestruck idiot couple.”

You feel your face heat up a bit at it just being… official like that. You know it’s true, you don’t know what you would do without him. But at the same time it still manages to excite you. It’s scary, and exciting, and big. It feels really, really big.

“we should make t-shirts, shouldn’t we?”

“I don’t want to be THAT couple,” you snort. “Let’s get breakfast and call your brother, mister skeleton.”

“you know, i don’t actually mind that-“

“I’m not calling you mister skeleton,” you cut over him quickly. “I’ve got way better names.”

“such as?”

Don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it don’t- “Vertabae.”

He looks at you for a second to see if you’re serious, before busting out laughing. He laughs like he hasn’t laughed in a hundred years. This honestly the hardest you’ve ever seen him crack up. It’s hilarious. And- little do you know- like a warm blanket on your soul. Healing. When they came up with the “laughter is the best medicine” mentality, they weren’t talking about stab wounds. They were always speaking to the odd nature of souls. A bad knock knock joke and a good laugh can fix more than a couple wounds, though you wouldn’t admit it. 

“oh- my god-“ he says, still choking on laughter tears. “how did you even come up with that?!”

“Better than SOME names out there, skullcandy.”

While he continues to laugh his skull off, you manage to wiggle out of his grasp and hop up to the front. 

“hey,” he says, still with a smile in his voice, “we gotta eat! you suggesting you’re gonna pilot a van that you can’t even see over the dashboard of before i get to have a last meal?!”

“Thanks for the faith in me,” you scoff, turning around. “I bet I could do it.”

You suddenly feel like there’s something warm and heavy on your chest before being lifted into the air, straight out of your seat. You scream a little, despite not being scared. Whatever is happening, you trust it. The magic (you think it’s magic, it feels tingly) is familiar. It just startled you. You touch your chest, trying to find the source of the lifting.

“get back here and have breakfast.”

“What are you doing?!” you ask, hanging in mid-air over the center console.

“not letting you take off and kill us both.”

“Oh, come on.”

“what? that’s what i said i wasn’t doing.”

“What are you doing HERE?” you say, pointing at your sternum. He looks up at you- but his grin slips quickly. He looks from you to his hand, seemingly realizing something, before opening his fist hurriedly. You drop, with a small thunk on the center console, and land at his knees on the car bed.

“oh my god, i didn’t even realize i was- i mean, me and the kid do it sometimes, i didn’t- i’ve never done it on you before- shit, are you o-”

“THAT WAS SO COOL!”

He looks at you, confused, as you sit up hurriedly- you have a bloody nose from hitting your face on the console, but you don’t even seem to realize it. 

“Why haven’t you done that before?! Okay-okay-okay, can you catch me and stuff?”

“uh, well- i guess i- wait, what’s your plan?” he says, warily. “are you ok, your nose is-“

“Hold on!”

You swipe at your face with your sleeve, then roll down the window of the van. Sans watches, surprised, as you climber up onto the roof. Then, he hears-

“I’M GONNA JUMP!”

“you’re WHAT-” he yelps, shortcutting out of the car. 

When he gets there, you’re just propelling yourself off the roof. He stretches out his hands and catches you with blue magic, on instinct. Even after he trips backwards, landing on his back, he doesn’t dare let go of you. If you fall, you’ve got nothing to land on but scrubby weeds and his boney self. (Which, admittedly, would kill him.) You hold your arms out like you’re flying, face broken into a wide grin. He’s panting on the ground, soul still pounding, as you demand to go higher. 

“you’re- *pant*- insane, berry!”

“Higher!”

With a sigh, he sets you up a few more yards. Oh, you’re definitely going to pay for this later. His soul is going a million miles an hour at the moment. That was scary was hell. Christ, you really aren’t afraid of heights. You rock back and forth, wind catching in your hair, laughing giddily. You’ve always wanted to fly. It feels like a fulfillment of some long-forgotten childhood dream.

“C’mon, higher! I can’t see Canada from here!”

Sans can feel his hands shaking already. Enough magic to support an adult human is a lot more than it takes to support a ten year old child. And you’re pretty high up. AND he isn’t bringing you down, letting gravity help him. Only up, up, up. He starts to worry he’s going to drop you.

“i’m gonna bring ya down, ok?”

“Aww, why?”

“i’m gonna pass out, berry, i don’t wanna drop ya.”

“Oh- okay!”

Once you start getting to the height where he can reach you, you hold out your arms. He lets go of the blue magic and catches you deftly- though his arms are shaking, and his breaths are labored.

“Hey, did I hurt you?” you ask, concerned.

“scared me half to death, but i’m- *pant*- i’m good.”

“Heheh- sorry. That was too good to pass up. Hey, if I have blue magic, can I do that to myself?”

“uh- *pant*- hypothetically, but i think it’s a little early for that. you run- *pant*- outta magic in your system, you’re gonna drop like a rock.”

“You callin’ me fat?” you ask, giggling.

“i- no- no, i’m not,” he stammers, embarrassed.

“Wow, Sans.”

“hey, heheh, i can’t judge! i mean, i’m a literal skeleton and i managed this,” he chuckles, waving a hand at his torso. “though i like to say i’m just big-boned.”

“I think you have broad shoulders, and you wear soft things. It’s just an optical illusion. I like it.” He thinks about that before realizing you’re correct. Huh, new argument against exercise to give Paps. “Me, however: I’m just chubby.”

“and it’s the cutest thing, baby.”

“Aww.”

You kiss him on the forehead and grin- he just smiles back like a dope. You are so frickin’ adorable: it’s going to kill him. However, he gets to the point where his arms are shaking so hard you think he’s going to pass out, so you hop down with a thump. You take his hand and start to tug him back in the direction of the van-

“Let’s get something to eat, shall we?”

“yup.”

You eat, and feed Fish Stick- well, Sans tries feeding Fish Stick. He gets a little bit of milk on his lap, but that’s soon forgotten in the new development:

“oh, hey, look- his eyes are open. cute.”

You peek over to see: sure enough, he’s peering up at you with his tongue stuck out a little, eyes wide. One eye is blue, and the other is yellow. He meows at you, sticking out a paw- you catch it on the tip of your finger and shake it as if you were shaking his hand. He just looks confused and pulls away.

“I love ‘im, he’s so cute…”

“EYE love him, too,” Sans says, grinning. You just elbow him and pet Fish Stick for a minute while he laughs. “ok, ok, that one was bad. but that’s what makes ‘em so good!”

“You are the insane one here.”

“coming from the girl who just jumped off the roof of a van twice her height."  
“In my defense, I knew you would catch me. I knew you wouldn’t let anything bad happen.”

“doesn’t mean you should go flinging yourself off buildings just because.” 

“This isn’t a building.”

“you know what i mean,” he says, settling Fish Stick into the dashboard bed up front and relaxing. “i’m not always gonna be here to save your ass.”

“Says who?”

He thinks about that for a minute, slightly nervous. That’s a touchy topic. And this morning has honestly been too sweet for him to ruin it- his insecurities about the resets are not going to rear their ugly heads. He shrugs. 

“you’ll learn how to use your magic, you’ll be ok.”

“No, that’s not what I asked,” you insist. “Says who? Who says you’re not always going to be here? I’ll fight ‘em!”

“heh… yeah. you’d probably try.”

“Sans…”

“hey, don’t worry about me. i’m fine.”

You give a little huff, but when he insists, you nod. “I’m trusting you to tell me if something’s wrong. I love ya. Now gimme the rest of your pop tart.”

~~~~~

You’re pleased to see that Sans seems plenty tired for the rest of the day. He isn’t working himself- heh- down to the bone, but he’s just relaxed. Happy. Content to just talk and joke and eat lukewarm pop tarts with you. It’s almost shocking, realizing that he really seems to have missed you this much. Every time you smile, he laughs to himself a little: you can tell. He’s just, relieved. You slowly realize you must have really scared him when you shrunk into yourself.

You know this: you won’t do it again, if you can help it. You’ll take care of him, just like he takes care of you. 

~~~~~

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU ADOPTED A CAT?!” Papyrus yells over the phone.

“named him fish stick.”

“WHATDOYOUMEANYOUNAMEDHIMFISHSTICK?!”

“he’s so tiny, pap, you’d love him,” he says, grinning. You giggle as he ignores the ranting on the other end. “i got little hands, and he can fall asleep in just one of ‘em. he’d fit on the tip of your finger. heh, he’s pretty pawsome.”

“You vex me, brother,” he sighs. “Send pictures of our new charge!”

“well, i think clara’s gonna keep ‘im at her place.”

“Well… send pictures anyway.”

“if i didn’t know ya better, i’d say you were excited about the little guy, bro.”

“SILENCE, BROTHER!”

“heheh. you wanna talk to clara?”

“YES, PLEASE!”

It surprises you a little, but you take the phone gingerly. Papyrus does have a tendency to get pretty loud…

“Hello!” Oh- huh, he’s actually being pretty quiet, at least for your sake. 

“Hey!”

“Now that I have someone who WON’T make incessant puns at me, I can ask important questions! How has it been?”

“Um…” You look at Sans for help. He just shrugs. 

“be honest.”

“The car ride has been really good, actually. With Fish Stick and, um, music and stuff.”

“And the meet-up with your parents?”

Your face goes dark, and you struggle to open your mouth-

“Not great, h-heh.”

“Oh! I’m sorry to hear it. Everyone has a little good in them if you look hard enough, Clara, I promise. I’m sure they are no exception.”

“I. . . I hope so.”

“I’m sure of it! My brother is taking good care of you through this, yes?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what I would have done by now if I was trying to do this by myself. You got really lucky, Papyrus.” You smile at Sans while you say this, and he scratches the back of his neck, looking away.

“Well, of course I did! Sans is the best brother I have!”

“i’m the only brother you have, pap.”

“It doesn’t make you not the best!”

“heh. thanks.”

You smile a bit, at the generally pleasant environment, and then slip in-

“Oh, and we’re going drinking in a couple hours.”

“YOU’RE WH-“

Sans clicks the “hang up” button before Papyrus can finish his sentence.

“and that, berry, is how you jinx a bar forever. and get a hundred texts per minute from the same guy.”

“You say that like you’ve done it before, Sans.”

“well, it’s not only the ladies who can’t stay away from me,” he says, with a wink. 

You bust out laughing as he turns into the nearest town.

~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was two chapters but one was too short and one was too long but  
> HECKIN MOOD CHANGE THERE IN THE MIDDLE
> 
> comennt pls ur boi is lonly  
> u don wan ur boi to be lonlee now du u


	20. I'll Give It A Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which drinks are had, shenanigans ensue, and slightly hasty decisions are made.

As Sans pulls into the parking lot in front of the bar you’ll be in tonight, you get an idea.

“Hold on- do you know where my changes of clothes are?”

“why?”

“Just wanna change. D’you mind?”

“nope. it’s in the duffel bag in back, where ya left it, i think.”

“Cool.”

He looks in the rearview while you reach back and grab something out. You catch his eyelights and glare.

“No peeking.”

“heh, sorry.”

He hears a bit of shuffling, but doesn’t look. In a minute or so, you stammer,

“Okay.”

He looks back- you’re in a tight tank top and jean shorts, with your hair in a ponytail. He raises his eyebrows at you. You look uncomfortable as hell, that is way too tight on you. Not that it doesn’t look fantastic on you, it does. (It SERIOUSLY does.) But he can’t really appreciate it when you’re fidgeting to keep it all in place and holding your breath. 

“why?” is his first question.

“Do you, uh, not like it?”

“i mean, I do. but you look like you’re going to puke.”

You flush a little bit, and shrug. “I mean, I just wanted to wear something, uh, pretty? No, that’s, uh- nice. Something nice.”

Your entire face is bright red at this point, and you hide your face in your hands. Gee, that went well. 

“berry, you’re pretty in anything. i mean, you look super sexy, don’t get me wrong, but i don’t wantcha bein’ uncomfortable this whole time.” This does not help your stammering.

“look at me a sec, will ya?”

You tilt your face up, with an embarrassed smile- “k. you trust me?”

“That depends on what the next thing you’re going to say is.”

“you trust me when i say i think you look pretty in anything?”

“Um. I- um. Uh, heh, I- I mean- I mean, I, kind of, but-“

“good enough for me. change into somethin’ you actually want to wear, baby.”

“But I want to wear this so you- uh.”

“so i what?”

You’re practically blowing steam out of your ears. You mumble something, but he can’t understand you.

“you need me to come back there?”

“Yes,” you squeak.

He shortcuts into the back, plopping beside you criss-cross applesauce, and pulling you into his lap. 

“what’d you say?”

“Thobeesiertkisme…”

“what?” he laughs.

“I thought it’d be easier to get you to kiss me,” you say, in one breath. 

Sans lets out a short, barking laugh- you shove your face in your hands, wanting to crawl into a hole and vanish forever.

“hey, hey, i’m not laughing at you,” he says, still laughing to himself a little. “laughing because you thought i wouldn’t be kissin’ you the second you asked.”

That makes you pause a little bit, and your head whips around to look at him, eyes wide and almost accusatory. 

“Damnit,” you say, out loud. “Frickin’ damnit.”

“what!” he says, throwing his hands up. “you are confusing the hell outta me right now, baby, i don’t know wh-mmm…”

You interrupt him, pulling the front of his jacket so his face comes down to meet your lips, hard. After a solid ten seconds of straight collision, you pull away, looking at him with the most intense look he’s ever seen you wear.

“Goddamnit, Sans, you have no idea how much I’ve been wanting that.”

His grin widens after he gets over the shock of the thing: oh, DAMN. He pulls you back in for another one- your lips part just enough for him to slide his conjured tongue in your mouth, coaxing yours to come out as well. It honestly doesn’t take much convincing. He’s holding you at your hips; the tank top has a habit of rolling upwards on its own, so it gives him plenty chance to feel your squishy self melt in his hands. You have both hands gripped onto the front of his jacket, only releasing on your tug when you need air. After a long minute, you hold a finger up and pause things. He looks at you wondering if something is wrong. You seem to follow his train of thought and shake your head “no”.

“I’d much rather do the rest of this with a drink in me.”

“k.”

He steals one more quick kiss and nuzzles your nose.

“i wish you’d do that more often.”

“Then you’re definitely gonna see it happen.”

“heh.”

You change into your more comfortable clothes, though, to your credit, you do still wear shorts and a tank top. These are just a bit looser. You don’t seem to mind changing in front of him- you go quickly, but still- he can’t help but see the scar again. It’s a circular scar, maybe as thick as a quarter. Just off to the right a few inches is a smaller, lighter scar to accompany it. Like the moon to a planet. It might be as thick as one of his eyelights, minuscule in comparison to the other.

Unfortunately, you catch him looking and quickly yank down the shirt, face darkening considerably.

“it’s ok, y’know.”

“Just… don’t like people looking.”

“ok.”

You touch it nervously, then shake your head as if to clear away the thoughts, turning towards the door.

“Um, do you want to get Fish Stick set up in the trunk?”

“sure. you can head on in, i’ll be right there.”

He catches your elbow, bumps his mouth to your forehead and says, “i love you,” before letting you free. You sigh and give a hesitant smile. Somehow those words always manage to make you a little bit less worried. Despite what a wild night this is about to be: you’re super excited as you stroll into the little bar. The chalk sign out front says, “South Canada Bar”, which you laugh at. Since you haven’t crossed the country boundary line yet, you’re guessing some Canadians are poking fun at the U.S. You don’t mind- and, since the place seems pretty busy, you’re confident nobody else does, either. 

While you walk in, Sans takes the liberty of parking in the smallest corner of the parking lot of the place. You know the type- the little corner with too many burnt out cigarettes, and a scrubby tree with broken concrete at the roots. It doesn’t matter anyway, though, because the tree was dead five years ago. Since nobody ever wants to park there, Sans thought it would be the perfect place to park the shady-looking van. You can sleep and drink or whatever in peace: nobody’s going to want to come near it. 

He catches up with you through a shortcut after making sure that the van is locked successfully. You jump a little bit, but you seem to be getting more and more used to it over time. He takes your hand lightly and opens the door. A couple patrons look around when they see the huge shadow of the monster walk in, but relax a bit when they see him. He looks too jovial to hurt a soul. And besides, Sans knows that to see someone in their true nature, you can’t pressure them too hard. Let them act how they want to act when they think nobody is watching. But he will be watching carefully. Nobody around here is coming anywhere NEAR you. Best to just focus on a little bit of everything for now.

You notice a couple of open barstools next to each other- “Hey, over there,” you say, pulling his hand and dragging him along. “Okay, do we want to buy some and take it, or drink it here? I’ve never done this before.”

“uh. we might wanna keep it here to be safe, heh.”

He says this kind of bashfully- you wonder if he’s a bit nervous himself. A couple rounds of liquid courage couldn’t hurt. You grin brightly and continue to tug him towards the front. 

“Here, it is!”

“heheh…”

You clamber up into the seat on his left, and he takes the one on the right You notice as he hops up that he’s left his hoodie in the van, for whatever reason. Without the big, loose piece of clothing to give the illusion that he’s wide, you’re surprised to find he looks oddly muscular. Fit. Which is weird, because he doesn’t have muscles, and you doubt he’s worked out a day in his life. But you do admit to a little bit of staring at his arms. Weird. Cool weird, not bad weird, but still weird.

“like whatcha see?” he chuckles, mock-flexing. You blush hard and laugh a bit.

“I- I, yeah, I mean-”

“hey, berry, i don’t mind! you got quite the little show goin’ on yourself.”

While you stammer, Sans grins and calls the bartender over. He’s no Grillby, but he does have red hair. Unfortunately, that resemblance is not enough for Sans to just say “the usual” and get a full meal plus drinks on a tab.

“Hello- whaddya up for, sir?”

Sans is a bit taken aback at someone referring to him as “sir”, but asks about various drinks and things. You, admittedly, have no clue what’s going on. However, you do know a few terms, enough to get by.

“you wanna start off with somethin’ lighter to start?” Sans asks. “if you wanna start knockin’ ‘em back right now, that’s cool too, but- wait, humans get sick after this, right? you might not want anything too-“

“Shots,” you say, immediately. “Vanilla vodka.”

He raises his eyebrows, then a slow grin creeps over his face.

“we’ll have four shots of vanilla vodka,” he says, to the surprised-looking bartender. 

“‘Kay. Ten bucks.”

“cool.”

He passes over the cash, since that’s all he thinks you’re going to be able to handle for the night. You smile and read the many things carved into the word countertop while he handles the transaction. A lot of couple names, here and there, the occasional whoever “was here”, or maybe a year. BFF pledges scratched into the wood. You snort to yourself- some of these are just plain ridiculous. Like, “never watch glitter force its bad” or “James has a tiny-” the rest is scratched out angrily, but you can definitely guess what it would have said. 

Sans follows your eyes as they skim over the countertop, tracing your fingers over the old declarations and stick figures and dates from years and years of patrons. They hesitate slightly at a light scratch in one corner, “monsters are shit”- he watches your finger glow blue a bit with flame, and you burn it until it’s just another cigarette burn on the wood. 

“that hurt?” he asks, when you suck on your fingertip afterwards.

“Not a lot, I was holding it away from me. Still a little toasted though,” you admit. “Some people are jerks.”

“tell me about it,” he chuckles, brushing away the remains of the ashes and rubbing them between his fingers. The white of his phalanges turns steadily more grey, but he finds it interesting enough for a minute before brushing it off on his shorts. 

“So… um, can you tell me more about souls? You’ve mentioned it once or twice, like they’re real things- I mean. I know they’re REAL, after all the science they’ve done since monsters emerged, but you say it like they’re… tangible.”

“yep.”

“Are they?”

“yyyep.”

“Woah… how do you touch it? Can you like, break it?” He winces slightly, which you catch- “Is breaking it bad?”

“you break your soul, you die. period, end of story.”

“Oh.”

“yeah. alright, breaking it down simply, heh, souls are the essence of your being. your body or whatever, that’s just the thing carrying your soul around. your soul is the purest version of you. you can draw ‘em out and see ‘em, there are different colors that go with different personality traits. monsters have white souls, all of us, because our souls are pure magic. that’s it.”

“Do I have a trait?” you break in, curiously.

“yep. patience. same color as my magic, actually. and yours.”

“So my soul is white, too? Because I have magic?”

He goes to answer, only to falter. Wait. Will it be?

“i mean… i’d have to look at your soul, but the aura coming off of it is patience, so i assumed… but… i don’t know, actually. you’re a special case, i guess. maybe both. white and blue.”

“That would be cool.”

“m-hm.”

“What else?”

“human souls are stronger than monster souls, but you’ve probably already heard that one. human souls are harder to crack. ’s why i was so surprised yours cracked like that back there.”  
“Wait- if it cracked, doesn’t that mean it could break? Am I dying?”

“no- no, it’s not like that. cracks can heal, see? mend. it’s all still in one piece, it just hurts like hell. breaking is when your soul comes apart. there’s no coming back from that.”

“Can you, um, break someone’s soul? Or is that the same as killing them?”

“it’s the same. but i guess if you were stupid enough to just walk around with your soul pulled out, someone could just attack that directly. geez, that would hurt…”

“Sounds like it. Can you really pull out your soul? And like, look at it?”

“um- i mean, if you know how.”

“Can I do it? Like right now?”

“no, um, definitely not right now. lookin’ at your soul is a personal thing. you do it by yourself, or, heh, maybe with someone you really trust. showin’ someone your soul is kind of like, um… it’s not a commitment, exactly, but it’s definitely not somethin’ you do with just anybody.”

“Have you done it with Pap?”

“a few times, to help calm us down. when stuff gets… overwhelming, it can help.”

“Would you want to see mine?”

“yeah,” he says, near immediately, a little blue in the face. 

“Heheh; hey, maybe after a couple shots, right? What else can you do with souls?”

“some dying monsters create links with other monsters to get more magic. you know, get more magic in, mend their souls, survive.”

“Can souls die on their own? Without the body?”

“that’s… yeah, that happens with monsters. called falling down. not a fun topic.”

“Oh.” You get the feeling he doesn’t want to talk about that, so you don’t press it. “Anything else?”

“you can…” his soul is pounding on his ribcage, he wants this so badly. “you can bond two souls to one another. but that’s basically marriage without all the official stuff.”

He can see the idea spark in your eyes before he even mentions it.

“it’s permanently having a part of your partner’s soul in yours. you feel a little bit of what they feel, know if they’re in danger or in need. know if they’re happy, or awake, or asleep, whatever. you’re tied to them. you can’t break it, or you would die, but… from what i’ve heard, it’s really nice.”

“Do you want to do it with ME?” you ask, eyes shining.

“i- i mean, its a little fast, heh, but i do want to eventually.” 

You tug him down to kiss you- he laughs into it, slipping his hand through your hair to hold you close. When you pull away, you see the red-headed bartender plinking down the shots and looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” you stutter, awkwardly.

“Oh- don’t let me interrupt you, you aren’t the uh… weirdest I’ve seen.”

You laugh a bit to yourself. Sans relaxes his hand from your head, lowering it to hold your hand instead. Even though you aren’t looking at him, he’s looking at you. You’re just… so… amazing. He wants to bond with you, he wants that sweet smile in his life, he knows he couldn’t live without you. Why postpone the love in that commitment? He knows he’s not good at commitments, he knows they scare him, but this just isn’t one he could live without. Maybe… maybe he should do this.

When your eyes turn back to him, it only sets his resolve. He needs you. He needs this.

“What?” you ask, waving your hand in front of his face- “Earth to Sans? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“i… damn, i love you.”

You smile and blush a little bit- “You too, but I still have no idea what I did.”

“didn’t have to do anythin’,” he says, smiling softly.

“You ready to stop being sappy and drink?” you ask, smiling back, a bit more lopsided.

“yeah, yeah.” 

You lift a shot, toast-style. He picks one up and clinks it to yours, then shoots it back. You follow suit, wrinkling your nose up at the burn in your throat and taking a deep breath.

“That has quite a kick for tasting like a birthday cake,” you rasp, coughing a little.

“heh, must suck having a throat,” he says, tauntingly, reaching for his second shot.

You roll your eyes, refusing to be outdone, and tip yours back as well. Already, you can feel a little bit of haziness at the edge of your vision. It’s not all bad, though. You giggle a little. Sans takes you by the hand, realizing you might be a little tipsy already: after all, you are significantly smaller than he is. Best to get you back to the van before anything happens here.

It may not be his first time at a bar, but it’s his first time at a HUMAN bar. And, frankly, there are enough news articles out there stating how dangerous places like this can be. Especially for sweethearts like you.

“Why’re we leaving?” you ask, a little confused. 

“don’t want… anythin’ to happen,” he says, slightly embarrassed.

You nod, laughing a little.

“You look worried, I’m fine, it was only two.”

“yeah, and you’re little.”

You frown, and he chuckles. 

“never said that was a bad thing, baby.” He turns and picks you up, nuzzling his nose into the side of your head with an eskimo kiss. “c’mon.”

You kiss back a little, even though you’re still pouting a little bit. He shortcuts to the van, still holding onto you. You don’t look sick, luckily. Just giggly and a bit tired. He wonders briefly why he brought you here, actually. What could have happened back there, anyway? It was just instinct. You look at him and poke him a little.

“Hey, you keep spacing out. You good?”

“i… do you want to bond with me? like, right now?”

That throws you a little bit, but you nod.

“i mean: it’s permanent, i know it is, but i just… i don’t know, i just… i need this. i wouldn’t do anything if you don’t want it, too, but… i really, really need this.”

“I want to marry you,” you say, smiling. “I really want to.”

He feels like his soul is going to overflow, you’re just too much for him. He gives a choked little laugh and kisses you, hugging you to him and smiling. Honestly smiling. You hug back, laughing a little yourself, disbelieving. 

“i love you,” he murmurs, his smile seeping into this voice. “i’ll keep ya safe, i promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone can guess what my original idea was for this chapter... I'll take a writing request from ya :>


	21. The One For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Souls go smush in this one.  
> Smishy-smash.
> 
> Oh and Gaster's back, that madlad-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY!!!  
> BEFORE YOU READ THIS CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> ...
> 
> U doin good

“Okay. How do you draw your soul out?” you ask, shuffling to sit crosslegged, your knees touching Sans’. He feels giddy, his smile just barely held back from wrapping all the way around his skull. 

“’s easy. i wanna see if you can do it before i try- i’ve never seen a human do it.”

He describes the feeling of taking ahold of your life. Of the warmth in your body, of your breath and magic and blood, and centering it with your magic. And then, he said, it’s as simple as feeling as if you wouldn’t mind baring all of it to someone. A feeling of ultimate trust. Trust seems like a good start, he concedes. He’s always struggled with it. But watching you, completely laying out everything you are in front of him, gives him confidence. With a little noise of confusion and shock, you draw your soul out. It’s a little heart- cracked, as he predicted, but rapidly healing. It gives you the mental image of dropping a drop of blue food dye in a glass of milk. Mostly white- but a cloudy, swirling, deep blue bit in the center. 

You look at him, pride in your eyes, and he nods encouragingly. And he draws out his own soul. To his surprise, he can do it without a single moment of hesitation. Inverted, dull, cracked. The healing bits would give someone the impression of trying to pull both sides of the Grand Canyon together with scotch tape. Not very effective, but it’s holding together. And hey! Maybe with something a bit stronger he’d be able to fill in the gaps. Your immediate thought is that your soul would be the perfect thing.

Speaking of it, you glance back down at it, curious. You reach out and let it hover in your hands, light and happy and quick. Like it has a little mind of its own. Sans’ doesn’t move like yours does, but rather prefers to sit in its place, bobbing a little like it’s floating on water, occasionally pulling towards yours. He has to draw it back a bit- that only makes yours dart after it, bumping at Sans’ hand to get it out of the way between the two. You think it’s funny how it acts like they simply can’t be separated. He obliges, but keeps them a safe few inches apart. 

“see what they’re doin’?” he asks you. You shake your head no. “they’re trying to touch. that’s what causes a soul bond. they want… they want to. yours wants to.” 

That reassures him, gives him a choked smile. Your soul is trying to bond itself. You really do want this, just like he does. He brushes a thumb over the top of his, sighing. It feels kind of like he’s giving himself a pep talk or a pat on the back. Telling him that he can do it. 

“ok, um- this might sound stupid, but i gotta walk you through how this is gonna work before we start.”

“Okay,” you say, looking up from the two as they float around. 

“if we let ‘em go, they’ll probably try to do it themselves. all they do is touch, and they can handle the rest. that’s the fun part, honestly, none of it is manual unless you’re forcing it. which-” he shudders a little- “that’s, uh, a completely different thing. anyway. i think i gotta hold mine back myself… yours is probably gonna be a bit too strong for me, see? i don’t want to… heh, um… overwhelm myself. but i promise, this should feel really good. for the both of us.”

You smile- he’s obviously nervous. You lean forward and peck him on the forehead.

“I think it already feels great. Your soul is so pretty. Well- wait, if you are your soul, then, you’re… beautiful, honestly.”

“nothin’ compared to you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss back on you. “you’re gorgeous.”

You smile, softly, taking a long look at his soul. He feels slightly nervous under your eyes, but doesn’t stop you. It feels like you’re looking at all he is, and sort of… forgiving him. It feels like you’re looking at not only him, but at everything he’s done. And it feels like you’re saying with your eyes alone… that it’s enough. You look back up at him, and he can’t help but keep his eyes locked on yours, almost anxious for a reaction. You smile lightly-

“I know you don’t believe me. But you really are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He feels his face heat up, but just this once, he only nods his thanks. It’s his bonding night. Maybe he should take a compliment.

“but, uh… are you ready for this?”

“Never been more ready.”

He takes a deep breath, preparing to let go. “ok. ‘f anythin’ starts feelin’ wrong, even a little, tell me, ok?”

“Yeah. Go for it.”

He lets go of his own soul, hands trembling with excitement and anxiety. It moves surprisingly quickly towards yours, flying around it in a circle. You giggle. It kind of tickles. Yours follows suit, like they’re swinging around one another in tandem. You didn’t expect his soul to be so eager- for something that was moving so slow previously, it was hiding a lot of enthusiasm. It presses to yours near immediately, wrapping around you and pressing deep. You gasp at the sudden sensation, which feels safe, and filling, and whole, and so, so good. Intimate, but gentle, light and heavy, intense and kind. Sans feels this even more acutely, since your soul is so much stronger. The satisfaction of clinging around you, keeping you completely and entirely safe. And it’s definitely overwhelming that desire to touch and hold to you, to fill the chasms. It’s the most beautiful light show of blue and white and gold. When you can’t keep yourself back much longer, you reach forward and cling onto Sans, pressing the souls together between you. 

Sans knows that he should hold back a little, so he doesn’t do something dumb like pass out, but feeling both your soul against his, AND your arms clinging around him, he decides it’s worth the risk. He tangles his hand in your hair, blindly pressing your lips to his mouth, borderline hurting with how GOOD this feels, how MUCH this feels. You fall into it, like it’s all completely natural. It feels as much. It feels like something you were just waiting to do all along. Since the day you were born, this is what your soul has been waiting for. It doesn’t shock you at all.

You focus back on Sans- he whimpers slightly against your lips. You know from the look on his face that it’s starting to get to be a bit too much. Overstimulation, you want to call it. He crushes you to himself, trying to get as close as he can, slipping his conjured tongue into your mouth and tangling yours with it. You moan into his mouth, which, he decides, is now his second favorite noise in the world, just behind your laugh. He can feel the heat off your souls in-between you, melting and forming anew like melted crayons. They’re going to split soon, you can feel it building up. Both souls returning to their owners, traced with the opposite’s soul and magic. 

The build-up is getting hotter and hotter- you can hear Sans whimpering against your tongue. Pleasure and pain. You put your arms around his neck, trying to distract from it just slightly by deepening the kiss. You gasp hard as you feel the one, hot mess of a soul between you splitting in two, cooling slightly.

You sigh a little, relieved, when you feel an almost unfamiliar presence enter your chest, still warm and half-formed. You can feel traces of- you? (you think so; it feels like you) and a bit of what feels like a warm hug, and the color blue, and a soft word clinging to it. It’s damaged slightly, you can tell. Though admittedly, you can’t tell if it was that way before you bonded, or if everything that just happened took something out of it. Anyhow, you immediately get the urge to heal it. Though admittedly you don’t know how just yet. 

Sans, through a mind filled with white and pleasure and pain, feels his soul return to him as well, still holding onto a piece of yours. At least, that’s what he identifies it as: it mostly feels like a soft kiss, and a snorting laugh, and a tiny warmth in his arms as he drifts off to sleep. He can feel the emotional pain in it, but knows there’s no point on trying to heal it right now. It won’t do anything, not when you’re still recovering from this. 

You open your eyes, pull out of the kiss, pull your arms down from around his neck, take a breath. You sit there for a long moment to let your souls settle and cool in your chests. When you can’t feel it anymore- like it’s sort of settled back into just being a part of you, and not an alien presence. Sans takes one more moment to relax his magic and his posture- and he gently takes your face in his hands. His palms are sweaty, which you didn’t expect, but it doesn’t bother you.

“you ok?” he asks, giggling. It really is a giggle- nothing low, nothing cool or collected or controlled. Just a little burst of laughter in the color of the moment.

“Yeah- I was more worried about you! You sounded like you were in pain for a second there, geez.”

“nah, just got a little powerful. felt too good to stop, though. you did really good.”

“I love you,” you murmur, giggling a little yourself at his awkward praise. You can somehow feel, in your soul, that Sans is exhausted. It’s like mind reading, almost. “You want to get some sleep?”

He pauses, the happy exhaustion in his features interrupted. His face just looks so… surprised, all of a sudden. It breaks, though- a huge, wobbly grin- he leans forward to press his face into your shoulder, letting out a small sob. Not a sad one, you can tell: a really, really happy one. So overwhelmingly happy that he thinks he’s going to wake up from a dream, the most amazing dream he’s ever had. It must be the emotion flow, or something. He pulls his arms around you, stroking your back, smiling and choking.

“i love you so much, sweetheart.”

You smile and put a gentle hand on his skull. You feel like you know just how this feels, just what to say.

“You’re not dreaming, Sans. I’m going to be right here, okay?”

“… ok…” You get the acute feeling he’s trusting you with this. He feels vulnerable. You want him to feels safe and vulnerable, all at once. “i love you.”

You smile, hug him back, lightly push him to lay down out over the mattress. He breaks away from you, if only reluctantly- but you’re back in a moment, lying next to him, cuddled up to his chest. His arms loop around you again: this time they lock you in place, tightly. You probably couldn’t even get up if you wanted to. Which you definitely don’t.

“you know that, right? i know i’m an uggo, and i’m weird and junk, but…”

“Don’t talk yourself down like that- you seriously think I think you’re ugly? Or weird? Well- well, you ARE weird, but it’s good weird, not bad weird, but you’re definitely the most handsome person I’ve ever met. So don’t say that. I love you. I love you so much.”

He nuzzles his face to yours, squeezing you tightly. 

“you think?”

“I know.”

“damn. well, look’t me, i’m the luckiest monster on the surface, huh?”

“I don’t know about that… but I know I’m lucky to have you.”

“i love you, sweetheart, i love you so much it hurts…”

“I can feel it,” you murmur. And you can. His soul is screaming it at you, those three little words, unable to hold it back like he wants to. You can feel that he wants to pretend it’s not as overwhelming as it is. But he just loves you so much he can’t hold it back: if he did, he thinks it would knock him dead. 

“and you’re so… you’re too damn good for me. you’re all broken like me, but you do such a good job. you work so hard. i don’t have that.”

You climb up on top of him, reassuring him with your weight. He holds your sides in his hands- small hands, by monster standards, but definitely big for you. He gently massages your hips, your back, your shoulders, until you start to drift off to sleep.

“there, baby… relax… i gotcha.”

“i’m keepin’ ya good ’n safe.”

“don’t worry.”

He falls asleep beneath you, and you on him, straddled over him like a tired sloth. You love how big he is. Tall and broad and safe. His locked-up arms only relax slightly as he sleeps. Even unconscious: he knows you appreciate the hug. You make a last sleepy attempt at pulling some blankets over the two of you, only managing to pull the quilt you brought from home. You can’t tell too well…

…maybe you’re just falling asleep…

… but you think you saw a small smile fall over his face as he drifted off.

~~~~~~~

After you closed your eyes, you thought you would awake… well, where you fell asleep. You assumed, honestly, it would be a good assumption to make. But as you open your eyes again, you find yourself standing in a familiar-feeling empty void of darkness. In the distance, you see the familiar face. A skull, cracked, the hands, holes through the middle. And a name springs to the tip of your tongue. It feels like a million years since you’d said it last.

“Gaster?”

His smile spreads, and he almost seems to curtsy with his robe of darkness. At least he recognizes you.

“Wait… if I’m here, am I dead? Or- no, not dead, but, not okay. Geez, Sans is gonna freak out.”

“N o , c h i l d . Y o u a r e j u s t f i n e .”

“Oh- good… did you… call me here?”

“I d i d . I c a l l e d b o t h o f y o u .”

“Both… is Sans coming?”

“H e i s a l r e a d y h e r e .”

You look confused for a moment, then look down at your soul. Oh. He must have sensed that you were unconscious and tried to get ahold of the both of you at once. You hoped you didn’t disappoint him. 

“Right… I wish I could remember you better, I could… I could make it up to Sans. He’s helping me find my family, I should be able to help him find his.”

“A r e y o u n o t h i s f a m i l y n o w ?”

“Oh. Yeah. Should I, uh, have asked your blessing or something? I’m sorry, I- god, this is all so different.”

“Y o u c o u l d n o t h a v e .”

You notice his tone has turned… stern, almost. As he continues to speak, it gets deeper, more warped and dark.

“I m u s t w a r n y o u . . .”

“Yes?”

“D o n o t m a k e m y m i s t a k e .”

You try to lighten the sudden tension by laughing weakly. “Die?”

“D o n o t L E A V E H I M .”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Y o u w o n t .”

He draws closer, and for once you take a few steps away. Afraid. 

“O R Y O U W I L L R E G R E T N O T D Y I N G W H E N Y O U H A D T H E C H A N C E .”

When you blink, your eyes open to see the inside of the van. Feel Sans holding you, smoothing your hair and soothing you gently. 

“you alright?”

“Sorry,” you say, quietly, confused. “Weird… weird dream.”

“nightmare?”

“I don’t remember.”

And you don’t. Where did the dream take place? Who was there? What was said? All you can think when you try to think back to it is a strange feeling of foreboding. Sans simply hums to you gently, singing for you under his breath until you fall back asleep. He lies awake a moment, wondering why the feeling of… reunion… is so fresh in his soul. 

Oh.

It’s because you bonded with him, duh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Gaster's text too hard to read?? Or is that just me?
> 
> Oh and since nobody guess what was originally supposed to happen last chapter... (before i edited it because it was terrifying) I won't tell you.  
> :3
> 
> Welp let's play the question game  
> I just got a label maker  
> What do I label  
> What do I write on the labels
> 
> Bonus:   
> Fish Stick, sitting in the trunk asleep during all of this: wats withh tha lites guyz


	22. The Truth Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sans tells you something he's been meaning to say for quite a while now.

You wake up in a different state than you ever have before, maybe in your whole life. It’s… peaceful. Truly, down-to-your-core peaceful. You feel a familiar- and yet, unfamiliar- calm surrounding you that isn’t exactly your own. Like a second blanket over the one on your back. You don’t want to disturb it, it feels like you could break it in a moment. You just sit there, breathing long and slow, eyes half open. You rise and fall on the soft waves of Sans’ breathing under you. He snores just a little bit- loud enough to wake up a light sleeper, but consistently enough to almost be treated like white noise. You like it. It makes his chest stutter a little. 

A different feeling accompanies the calm one, after a few minutes, as the snoring fades. Love. It bowls you over inwardly with the strength and intensity of it, even as it’s calm and gentle. Like being tackled by a blanket. You’ve never felt such a strong sense of… NEED before. And you know it’s directed solely at you. You can feel it. You get the feeling that if something were to happen to you, the feeling would go empty. Apathetic. Dead. 

Silent doubts filter in after the love feeling. They feel like odd, third person thoughts. ‘what if she doesn’t like you, not really?’ the first one says. ‘was goin’ so fast a mistake? haven’t even touched her soul yet. haven’t even told her everything about me. when she knows everything, what if she wants to undo it? if she doesn’t love me anymore… what then?’

You tilt your head up, resting your chin on Sans’ sternum, and look at him. His eyes are half opened, slightly tinged with worry. Not enough to worry you on a normal basis, no. But when you can hear- no, feel- the thoughts running through his head- Or is it his soul?- you know the facade is a lie. You wonder if he’s been waking up to his own doubts every morning. When he sees your little concerned pout, the thoughts quickly disperse. He rubs a thumb over your cheek, smiling at you a little.

“mornin’, berry.”

“Sans…”

“what? what’s that look for?”

“I know we did this a little fast. That doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

“heh. oh. you talkin’ ‘bout what i’m thinkin’?”

“Yep.”

“whoops.”

“Mm-hmm. No more anxiety for you, mister. Am I just gonna be listening to your thoughts 24/7 like this? It’s like a really shitty radio show.”

“nah, probably not. our souls are in such close proximity that the, well, uh, emotion flow, if you wanna call it that: it’s faster.”

“If I got far enough away, would I stop feeling it?” you ask, worriedly.

“you’ll always feel a little bit of somethin’, i would think… but, yeah, something like that.”

“Aw.”

“yeah.”

“Well, I don’t plan on leaving, so this works out fine.”

“glad.”

You stretch out, smiling a little when the little thoughts of “beautiful” flit through your mind. It gets specific, too. Little patterns of light in your bushy hair, your sweet golden eyes, your soft pink lips. It makes him smile. He kissed those perfect little lips. He thinks your whole body- whether it’s soft muscles or hard determination- is so amazing. How complicated and detailed every part of you is in comparison to him. Your entire body has such a complex system going- with you being an exception, the average human works entirely without magic. You want to laugh out loud at how wonderful and interesting he finds that. You’re just meat robots, how spectacular.

“meat robots? really?”

“Eh, you have to admit…”

“you’re callin’ yourself a meat robot.”

“I wish I were a monster,” you snicker. “It’s so much simpler. And- I don’t know, you can be so much more intimate with your feelings without just skipping to- you know.”

He grins deviously- “kinky shit?”

“Oh my god. Do not.”

“awwh, c’mon, you know it’s true.”

“It… kind of is. Only kind of!” you insist, when he laughs at you and your flustered thoughts.

To your relief, though, his doubting thoughts are gone. You both laugh a little and trail off, just taking in one another. He takes a strand of your hair, running it around and around one of his fingers, shuddering as some of it gets caught in the weird joints between his bones. You simply rub his sternum through his shirt, wondering if you can warm his soul that way. You aren’t sure what you’re doing, exactly, but Sans starts purring after a moment, so you let it happen. 

“wait.” 

You frown as a guilty-looking grin spreads over his face, and he drags a hand over his eyesockets, snapping out of his happy little trance. “i haven’t told pap yet. oh boy.”

“What’s “oh boy” for?”

“anyone who’ll sit still long enough is gonna get an earful about us. yeesh, i almost feel bad.”

“Aw, but that’s cute.”

“yeah, well, let’s hope everyone back home thinks so. i’m gonna call him, ok?”

“Sure.”

He pulls out his phone, messes with the buttons a little, and then clicks speakerphone- of course, it only beeps once before Papyrus picks up the phone.

“HELLO BROTHER!!! IT HAS BEEN AT LEAST A DAY SINCE YOU HAVE CALLED AND I WAS GETTING WORRIED BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I WAS SLEEPING WITH MY PHONE ANYWAY HOW ARE YOU?!”

“sorry, bro. it’s, uh, been pretty crazy lately.”

“HOW SO! TELL ME EVERYTHING!! OH, AND FRISK AND UNDYNE ARE LISTENING TOO, THEY SAY HI!”

“sup guys.” You laugh when Undyne yells “HEY, NERD!”- Papyrus tells you that Frisk “says” hello. 

“alright, um. so. uh,” Sans stammers. “we, well…”

Is he… NERVOUS?

“uh, see, the thing is, um.”

“Do you want me to say it?” you ask, biting back a giggle.

“yeah. say hi to clara, guys.”

“SUP PUNK!!!”  
“HELLO!”  
“OH AND FRISK SAYS HI TOO!”

“Welp, Sans and I- how do you say it, uh- soulbonded? Is that the verb form of soulbond?”

“nah, you got it.”

There’s dead silence on the other end of the phone, and you look at Sans curiously as he turns the volume down. What’s the point of turning the volume down on silen-

“WHHHHAAAAAAAAAAATTTT??!”

It sounds like everyone in the room said it in unison. You wonder if Frisk said it, too. You almost feel bad for not, I don’t know, asking for their blessing in advance or something. This does sound like a bigger deal than it seemed last night, admittedly… what HAVE you gotten yourself into?

“SANS!!! OH MY GOD!!!! CLARA, YOU’RE MY SISTER NOW!!! SOULSIBLINGS!!!!!” He can only get out so much at a time- in the background, you can hear Undyne laughing like a maniac.

“OF COURSE SANS- HAHAH!- WOULD RUN OFF AND GET HITCHED, WHO ELSE WOULD?!”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” Sans asks, laughing.

“Nerd, you were ALWAYS the random one. You know that, right? Writing in, like, ancient runes-”

“THEY’RE CALLED WINGDINGS, UNDYNE, AND THEY ARE A RESPECTABLE FONT.”

“-And listening to weird human bands-“

“the beatles are not weird.”

“They named themselves the BEATLES, and you’re telling me that they’re not weird?!”

“coming from the chick who listens to k-pop.”

“BLACKPINK IS BEAUTIFUL-“

“ANYWAY!!” Papyrus breaks in, flustered. “SO… I… I can’t believe this is happening!”

Both ends of the line go quiet, save for a bit of rustling. 

“you good, bro?”

“I’m just really so happy for you!! You’ve gotten so much better!!”

A bittersweet feeling settles in your soul- the knowledge that it used to be bad, and the knowledge that it’s better. The unfamiliar feeling of having something to fight for. A reason, if you want to call it that. It takes a moment for you to register that you are that reason. But after, you relax a little bit. A warm feeling. Loved. What a privilege.

“you and me both, eh?” he mumbles, looking at you. You smile and nod. “thanks. means a lot, pap.”

“Of course!! I’m going-“ he gasps, and you hear a scrabble of him getting to his feet- “I’M GOING TO HAVE TO PLAN A PARTY TO CELEBRATE!!”

“YEAH!! WITH CAKE!!” Undyne chimes in, with another series of thumps that sounds like she’s standing up, too. “AND SANS WILL PROPOSE LIKE HUMANS DO IT!!”

“Bold of you to assume he’ll be the one proposing,” you laugh. It only registers that you said something like that after a few seconds, but they’ve already accepted it before you can take it back. 

“YEAH!!!!” they shout, in unison. “Oh-“ Paps pauses. “Frisk says they want to talk to you! Themselves!”

“sure,” Sans says- you’re confused to feel a weird bit of fear stab through you. What about this kid puts Sans on edge? “what’s up, kid?”

“I’m sure you guys will be together for a really long time.”

It must have been some sort of inside joke, because even though Sans’ smile widens a fraction, you don’t get it. What’s that supposed to mean? Undyne seems to be thinking along the same line as you:

“DUH! THEY’RE SOULMATES!”

“heh. welp, we’d better go, we’re gonna hit canada in a couple miles. wish us luck, ok?”

“YOU WON’T NEED IT, BROTHER!! HAVE A GOOD TIME, AND EXPECT A LOT OF CONGRATULATIONS CALLS!!”

“sure, bro. love ya.”

“YOU TOO!!”

“bye.”

“GOODBYE!”

He clicks the hang-up button, then leans his head back and sighs. It’s not a sad one- he’s laughing to himself. 

“never thought this’d happen, eh, berry?”

“Nope.”

“you’re wondering about what the kid said?”

“Yep.”

“yeah. good question.”

His silence prompts you to nudge his arm.

“what? said it was a good question, didn’t say it was one i planned on answering.”

“Hey, I thought after the time I nearly killed myself we would stop having secrets, but maybe that’s just me.”

“you wouldn’t even believe me if i told’ja, if we’re being honest.”

“I wouldn’t believe me if I told myself three weeks ago I was going to get married to a six foot tall skeleton in a rental van on the way to Canada with a rogue cat, but here we are. Lay it on me.”

Sans decided last night, maybe before the drinks, that he would have to tell you eventually. He just prays you’ll think he’s kidding and brush it off. 

“alright. for the sake of conversation, imagine in the underground, frisk had a power. every time they died, they could turn back time. start over. let’s call that a reset. now let’s imagine they abused that power. they didn’t just use it when they died, they used it whenever they lost, whenever they messed up, whenever they were bored.”

“Makes them sound like a maniac,” you say, cautiously. 

“oh, boy, you'd have no idea. but let’s say when they were bored, they would kill monsters. just to see what would happen. murder for the sake of murder, you know? and once everyone was dead, they would reset and do it all over again.”

“Terrifying.”

“anything can become routine if you wait long enough. let’s say some of us were pretty fed up with it. tried to stop ‘em. tried to-“ he pauses to keep himself from getting caught up in this. “tried to protect the people they cared about, but failed. died. say i died. and then it would reset, and i would die again. and again. and again.”

He glances at you- your face is pulled into a tight frown.

“Wouldn’t love that. Keep going.”

“k. so let’s say one day, kid suddenly just, stops. frees monsters, no murder involved, and doesn’t reset. nobody else seems to remember the resets. everybody treats the kid like some kinda savior. someone like me, maybe, remembers, though. and they don’t trust them. drives ‘em half-insane.”

“You?”

“sure, me. i remember all those resets, and i’m waitin’ for the next one. and the longest i’ve lasted on the surface before your average reset is, say… a week. and suddenly, i’m free? for five years now, no catches, no “buts”, no nothin’? would you trust them after all that?”

“No…”

“right. and. they’ve been nice ever since then, and i don’t- i dunno. i don’t know what happened, and i’m confused. and nobody else knows. would drive… a guy like me… crazy.”

“I bet.”

“and then suddenly i’m waltzin’ around buyin’ cookies, and i run into the sweetest human i’ve ever met. she just sweeps me clean off my feet, you’d know the feeling. and you’re kinda torn, y’know? you don’t want to lose them, and remember them, and go through all that again. why have something worth keeping if you’re just going to lose it?”

“Oh.”

“and- and it’s not just that. i want to keep her safe from all this. from getting killed, or remembering, or getting reset. all three, even. i want to just hold ‘er with all i’ve got, because today might be it. who knows where i’m gonna wake up tomorrow.”

“And let’s say none of it is hypothetical. And it’s all real. Would that be it?”

He hesitates, looking at you with oddly-hollow looking eyelights, and shrugs.

“yeah.”

You softly press a kiss to his mouth, trying to think of something to say. Not only do you whole-heartedly believe it, but you’re scared. Not too scared- you believe it, but you can’t possibly imagine it in practice- but certainly nervous. You can’t lose him, you can’t go back to your parents. He laces a hand in your hair, holding you to himself for a second, before breaking away.

“i don’t want to hurt you, berry. ’s the exact opposite of what i’m tryna do. ‘m so sorry.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me sooner?” you ask, carefully.

“i… i didn’t want to seem crazy,” he says, looking away from you.

You put a hand on his face and make him face you again. “Why wouldn’t you tell me sooner?”

You feel a distinct pain, like a throb, in your soul. Like his is in pain. And then, in ways you can’t even begin to describe, you hear weeping. It’s like his soul is crying. You wrap your arms around him, tell him with the silence that he can take as long as he needs to gather himself. He sort of watches you hold him, before holding you back. He acts like he’s never been allowed this time before. It convinces you he’s never been held, never been shown such a tender act of comfort when he was hurting inwardly like this. And he holds onto you, trying desperately to keep the tears internal, before croaking out, in a wobbly, vulnerable voice-

“i couldn’t lose you before i even had you. i couldn’t tell you i could hurt you. i’m sorry. i didn’t- i wasn’t trying to- i-“

“Shh… I know.”

And he tilts his head back, body realizing he can’t cry, and switches gears. He laughs. Softly at first, breathy and low, before building into something that shakes you as you try to hold him, deep and loud and borderline insane. When it quiets, it changes again. This time- it’s tears.

“i don’t know what’s wrong with m-me-“

“Nothing is wrong with you. You’re scared.”

“why? i been dealin’ with the same shit for- ages, ages and ages, why do i- why am i-?”

“You’re putting your trust in another human. You recognize you’re taking a risk. But I promise it will be okay. I’ve got you.”

“don’t- god, don’t hurt me,” he whispers, pulling you up so he can press his head into your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist. “please, berry. i’m tryin’, ok? to trust this. i swear. don’t… don’t let it hurt again.”

“Never,” you whisper back, holding to him tightly. “I’m never going to hurt you like that. I’m never going to break your trust. Not on purpose. I would never hurt you on purpose. You have to help me with the accidents.”

“i can- i can do that. i can do accidents.”

“There… it’s okay. We got it.”

“we got it.”

“Mm-hmm… and I’ll stay with you as long as you need.”

“good,” he says, slightly muffled against your shoulder as he presses closer. “good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case any of you are worried: Frisk honestly doesn't plan on resetting. Sans is paranoid (and, rightfully so) for the most part. 
> 
> :)


	23. Canada...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this chapter filler? Maybe.  
> Is it cute? Yes.

Ah, Canada. It’s…

it’s…

it’s…!

Cold as hell.

You were expecting moose! And maple trees! And apologizing! But now you’re just snuggled up with Fish Stick in the back, wrapped in all of the blankets, cursing the frigid weather outside while you wait for the car to warm up to your preferred temperature. You’re so lucky Sans is driving, he can’t feel a thing. He says he almost feels bad for you, but he’s laughing too hard to care. The idea of cold is so funny to him, especially when you tried to describe it to him.

“Your skin gets all bumpy, and you shiver, and you can’t move. You can’t get warm enough. It’s horrible.”

“so, horny?” he chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows at you in the rearview mirror.

“No…!” you whine, apologizing to Fish Stick as he swats you firmly on the nose for making so much noise in his sensitive little kitten ears. His little claws add for some extra sting behind the attack. You wrinkle your nose, but don’t bother chastising him. He just gets all uppity when you do that, and he knows you know this. This cat is too smart for his own tiny good. And too cute. Did I mention he smells like yellow? Because he does. A beautiful mustard yellow, like baby powder and chocolate and new cars.

“is fish teachin’ you a lesson back there?”

“Is my nose bleeding?”

He glances at it, then shakes his head- “just a little red. have you tried healing it?”

That’s the latest obsession around here. Trying to use your magic like Sans can- everything from healing to weight magic to telekinesis, and- though he told you shortcuts are just a “Sans” thing- shortcutting. You still want to try. And, hey, you’re getting better! You managed to pick up Fish Stick yesterday, and managed to calm-slash-heal him after you dropped him by mistake. It feels really good to feel like you have just a little bit of control on your magic, even if it flares up every now and then. 

The weird coma that happened right before you visited your parents is still confusing to you, and it’s happened a few more times. It’s like you fall asleep and have moments of extreme clarity. You can see your soul, open and blue and loose, and his- tighter, but only because it’s so tangled with yours you can’t tell where one shade of blue begins and another ends. Beautiful, if you do say so yourself. But unlike the first time, that hurt, they feel really comfortable now. A little magic exchange, a moment of closeness. Sans doesn’t even wake you. It’s like, as a substitute for magic supplements (you have gotten pretty lax about taking them, despite how much Sans insists) you want to feed off of something warmer. More familiar. He doesn’t mind at all. You aren’t sucking his soul or his life out- it feels more along the lines of you helping just soothe some of his excited energy, helping him lull off to sleep. He rather likes it, actually. Comfy.

He watches you raise your hands, relax your body, and attempt to heal your nose. Fragile tendrils of green magic stretch up and soothe the redness, and pick lightly at the scratches a bit. Unfortunately, the magic can only take the edge off the sting: mending the thin layer of broken skin is seemingly beyond your ability, which is annoying. Sans said an important part of it was supposedly emotion. You care enough about the wound, that’s how much it should heal, as long as your energy can support it. You’d asked what emotion Sans feels when he was helping heal you before, with the little he could do.

He just shrugged. But the little voice in your soul whispering, “fear” is hard to ignore.  
Another voice whispers, “love”.  
Is there a word for the two combined?

Whatever it is, you don’t have to worry about it right now- you pull your fingers back into the blanket to warm them with your breath, pulling in on yourself. 

“Is the heater even on?”

“should be.”

He pokes at the button again. It clicks, but no air comes out of the AC. Click. Click click click. A little coughing noise comes from somewhere in the car, and a powerful reek of something puffs through the air vents weakly before sputtering out.

“uh-oh,” he chuckles. “guess we don’t have heat.”

“What do you mean we don’t have heat?” you exclaim- “I can barely feel my fingers, and you’re telling me we don’t have heat?”

“relax, it’s not even snowing.”

“Oh, yes, that solves our problem immensely.”

“hey, don’t get mad! if ya want, you can come up front and sit here, these seats are made for way bigger monsters, you’d fit without me having to move.”

“Is that safe?”

“maybe not, but you don’t need to see the other end of the human-temperature-induced-near-death-experience spectrum. c’mon.”

You reluctantly drag yourself out of your warm nest one-handed, holding Fish up with the other. He hangs limp, not letting out a single complaint as you get him settled in the blanket next on the warmish dashboard. You shimmy into the front and curl up next to Sans- geez, this seat really is gigantic. Who do they make these for, bears? He wraps an arm around you, slightly surprised at how cold your face and hands are, rubbing your arms to get some blood back in them. Once you’re settled beside him, and he can drive with his knee for a moment, he tugs his hoodie off his shoulders and pulls it onto yours. You pull the warm, thick thing over your head, relishing everything from the smell to the sheer warmth of it. It might freeze solid in this weather, but for now you’re fine. 

“Thank you,” you manage, smiling. 

“you’re so cold,” he chuckles. You can feel the slight worry behind his laugh in your soul, but you don’t comment on it. You focus on getting warmer to reassure him instead. He makes sure you have everything he can give you to keep you nice and snug. He doesn’t need the accommodations. He’s been stuck in the center of snowstorms back in Snowdin. That’s just what happens when you’re standing outside big purple doors to see if your friend is going to come back. He smiles to himself at the thought of himself, a few years younger, a few years less jaded, waiting to see if the punny old lady would come back.

If he didn’t have Papyrus and Alphys, he’d say she was his first friend. But it felt like his first friend all over again. He’d always had Papyrus. There was little comparison to actually living life with and without him. If he was killed, Sans had to wait 48 hours, tops, before he woke up in his bed to his brother screaming at him to wake up. He’d never had to actually function without him. Alphys slowly integrated into his life, before the lab accident. Then it was just occasional texting or exchanging memes. Toriel sort of just, happened. He realizes with a weird little smile that he has weird, weird ways of finding friends.

You notice with satisfaction that the happiness you can feel him feeling is warming him up, warming you up in the process. You’d comment, but you prefer not to break his pleasant stupor. He just keeps getting warmer, only looking down when you shift so you can hug your arms around him, holding him as best you can with your vastly differing sizes.

“whadda we have here, berry?”

“A hug.”

“because i’m warm, or because you’re sad?”

“Neither.”

Even though he can feel the words, he wants to ask you anyway. “then why?”

“Because I love you.”

It’s like his soul is going to swell so big wit will snap in two. A huge, happy smile slides easily over his face, and he doesn’t make a single move to move you except to pull you closer with one arm. 

“love ya too, sweetheart.”

“I know. It feels so great.”

“yeah.”

~~~~~~~

Nimbus is shaking like a leaf, excited and nervous and guilty and TERRIFIED. Your soul, it’s getting so close, he can feel you, he can feel how happy you are. Whatever wounds you experienced are over. And you’re WITH someone, too, he can feel it. 

He paces like a madman up and down the hallway of his house, a look of intense concentration on his face. You’re definitely coming, no doubt about it, but you’re with someone. Based on your current mood, you’re happy, coming with good intentions. 

You aren’t angry with him.  
You’re excited to see him again!

And what a huge relief that is, what a huge weight lifted off of his chest. He can’t feel any of your anger, none of your sadness. God, what a relief. He feels himself sink to the floor laughing, feels his hands burn with excitement, feels his entire body light up like a Christmas tree at the thought of you still being happy to see him. He tosses his gloves aside, relishes the feeling of his hands pressed against his floor, beaming. His stuttering breaths are broken by half-maniacal laughs, hot hands run through his hair.

Hope is the thing with wings.  
And it’s taken him clean off his feet.

~~~~~~~

“How far away are we?” you ask, looking at the GPS on Sans’ phone like it will speak. 

“uh…” he glances at it- “three, four hours? geez, people here live pretty damn far apart.”

“Well, yeah. Big country. Of course they’d take advantage of it.”

“still think it’s weird.”

“Of course you would. I bet everyone was all tight in the underground, right?”

“oh, no. nope. not like you’d think.”

“How?”

He leans his head back against the seat, still smiling, and then describes it all. Massive cave systems. A river so big and abundant with life there was precipitation. An underground volcano, the heat of which was used to power the whole kingdom. New Home, Old Home. Snowdin.

He talks about Snowdin like it was a long-gone relative, or his ex or something. Like it was a person, not a place, with a personality all it’s own. 

“snowdin was so… safe. only way i can think of it. i mean, sure it was terrifying, but it was safe.”

“What do you mean?”

He fumbles for words before finally settling on, “like you.”

“I’m terrifying?”

“oh yeah. scary.”

You try to laugh at the joke, but you can tell he isn’t making one. You just don’t understand. Yet.

“look, think about it like this. never felt more at home than when i'm with you. feels safe. but i don’t have any control over whether or not it stays that way. i can keep my end up perfect, i can do and try and give everything i’ve got to ya, but you could still go. or be taken. or something. ’s like a shaky peace. i don’t know how to say it. you’re safe. the power you’ve got over me isn’t. but i’m willin’ to risk that. because i love you.”

It’s your turn to feel like you’re going to burst with the affection. You want to show him, too, but he’s already being fairly risky driving with one hand, and if you kiss him he’s inevitably going to try and drive with his knee again.

“i’d pull over,” he mumbles. You have to remind yourself he can hear what you’re thinking. You can feel your face heat up slightly. 

“No, you don’t have to. Heh.”

“i want to, though.”

You feel his hand traveling to hold yours. You catch it just before it can get there and move it to your face. He smiles a little at your affection. He softly kisses your head, from your scalp to your forehead to your lips. If you can even call them kisses. Nuzzles would honestly be a better term. But the little effort he makes is all the difference. You make sure to tilt his head away so he keeps his eyes on the road, after a second. He does, but you feel considerably warmer than before. You don’t know whether it’s your own flush or the happiness in him warming you up. Honestly? Who cares.

Sans looks over at you after a minute or two, curious as to if you’ll want to continue the little kissing session, to find you fast asleep. He just smiles. This is even better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i owe yall a sooner update  
> see ya again on thursday  
> comment at me ok


	24. Cloudy Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a family is reunited.

(A man takes a seat outside of his house, in the snow. Right on the frozen lawn. An onlooker would think he was insane.)

Ten minutes. Only ten more minutes. Your breath is sucked in like you can hardly breathe, you’re tense from head to toe, and you’re still trembling despite being plenty warm. You’re anxious: and who could blame you? After what you’ve been through, wouldn’t anyone be anxious? You’re all set up in Sans’ hoodie and a little beanie to run up and knock on his door- at least, that’s your plan. (Sans might have his own small back-up plan if your brother pans out anything like your parents.) Ten minutes, and you’ll see Nimbus again. The thought is just, so surreal. You love it. You love that thought so much. You’re going to see him again, for better or for worse.

Sans recognizes that this might not be an entirely happy reunion, but there will be a reunion. He’s determined, at least, to give you that. And no matter the result, per your affirmation, you’ll be coming home with him. You desperately want your brother to come with you too, but that won’t be easy, necessarily. he has his own house and life now. Hell, maybe a family of his own. So he’ll stand by you, no matter what you do. He doesn’t care what happens, honestly. He only wants two, singular things to come out of this. Low expectations, in his opinion, but easily broken.

1\. He wants your brother to be kinder to you than your parents. That isn’t so much to ask, is it? They set the bar in the dirt. Let’s hope this kid doesn’t pick up a shovel.  
2\. He wants you to come home with him. Scratch that- he NEEDS it. He not only won’t, but cannot leave you behind. He would simply shatter to pieces if he couldn’t have both you and his brother in his life, and he knows it. He’s not one to stand up for what he wants, sure. But he will fight for the one part of a happy ending he needs.

(He’s eating a bowl of cereal, munching on it with a small smile on his face. One might think he’d be chilled from the cold, but he’s not.)

You tremble with anticipation as you see the neighborhood start forming around you, the pit stops and gas stations being replaced by sturdy trees and colorfully painted houses. This is it. It’s like it’s own cute little community around here. People walking their dogs on the frozen sidewalks now that the snow has subsided, shoveling out of their driveways and building snowmen and things. Even the police are out, speeding by you to go do their service to some poor soul who probably got frozen inside. Sans holds your hand, laughing as you let out another little shiver. You keep rambling excitedly, unable to control yourself.

“You think he’ll remember me? I mean I’m sure he will but I’ve grown up so much, and I’m sure he’ll look really different, too. Do you think he has a girlfriend now? How big do you think his new house is?”

“how’m i supposed to know, i’ve never met the guy.”

“I wonder if he’s even Nimbus anymore. Maybe he isn’t even Gareth anymore. Maybe he’s not like I remember him at all…”

“probably not. he’ll be better.”

“You think he’s still mad at m-“

“if he has been keeping a grudge on you for the past however many years-“

“-Nearly a decade; has it really been a decade?-”

“then,” Sans continues. “he doesn’t deserve you.”

You’re grateful for the words of comfort, honestly. They feel nice. 

(He’s plenty warm, of course! He’s watching his house collapse and burn before his very eyes.)

After a moment of silence, Sans says quietly, “you promise you’re gonna come home with me?”

It sounds almost pleading. Unsure. Nervous. Scared. You put a hand on his arm and smile-

“How’m I gonna see you if I don’t?”

“good question.” He sighs with relief, happy to have heard you say it yourself yet again. His. It sounds so nice to say, so satisfying. Sooner or later he could really stand to do something to prove it. Something sweet you would remember. To show you just how much he loves having you. At first he thinks of something physical, a make-out session on the way home, maybe, if he can get away with it, but maybe a gift would be better. He does really want to shop for you, which is a relatively new instinct. He wants to see you wearing, or holding, or using something that makes you happy. Something he gave you that makes you happy. A recovery prize, maybe?

Speaking of recovery, you’ve both noticed, since the magic supplements have started kicking in, your body has been healing rapidly. The bandages have been either replaced once or taken off and left alone, letting your body fight the rest of the way out. It’s actually sort of fun, testing the waters, seeing how sensitive different patches of skin are, trying to find your limits for little things like spilling water on yourself or rubbing a blanket on the new skin. You know it’s delicate, it wouldn’t take much pressure or much of a scrape to make you bleed in some places, but it’s really nice to feel like you’re going back to normal again.

Sans loves seeing your smile, uninterrupted by gauze or cotton bandages. He still can’t get over how fast and wonderfully you’ve recovered.

(I won’t lie: he seems pretty happy about the disaster, too. That smile, the cereal: one would think he was watching a particularly entertaining movie, not a crisis.)

“I’m not leaving, you’re- well, I’m assuming-“

“definitely no.”

“Right. Neither of us are leaving. And once we figure out what’s happening with Nimbus, I’m gonna have you all to myself.”

It takes you a second to register that you just said that, and while Sans whistles from the front seat, you stutter, trying to find a way to undo what you just said.

“I- I mean-“

“don’t worry about it, berry.”

“I didn’t- god, that was so-“

“seriously. i love it.”

“What?!” you giggle, leaning forward in your seat to try and get a look at his face.

He shrugs, even though you can see a dusting of blue on him. 

“i wouldn’t mind bein’ all yours.”

“Why?” you snicker- he just looks at you: like YOU’RE the one being confusing.

“i mean, come on. you act like i’m somethin’ worth havin’. ‘m happy ta make ya happy, sweetheart, but it’s not every day someone waltzes in and treats me like a million bucks. it’s nice. why not?”

“I… never thought of it that way before.”

While you think on that, Sans sniffs the air confusedly. 

“is the engine gonna blow up on us? smells like smoke.”

“Familiar,” you say, oddly. A bad familiar, but still familiar.

“what is it?”

The distant sounds of sirens pick up- as you pull in front of a flaming house on the corner of two streets, the GPS titters at you.

“You have arrived! 11-156 Southrock Road.”

~~~~~~

Nimbus feels the happy feeling in his chest drop suddenly, like he’s falling. The light feeling turns to lead. Cold, and hard, and painful. Grief. He turns around to see a white van pull up behind him, plowing through the slushy, muddy snow. The police have ignored him for the most part: he assumes they don’t know this is his house. What kind of madman just watch their own house burn? But will whoever this is ignore him? God, he hopes they don’t cart him away somewhere, he needs to be here. You’re coming soon. Really soon.

He watches a short woman stumble out of the backseat of the van and start booking it towards the house, like she’s going to charge right into it. A hoodie falling to her knees, boots falling off slightly as she kicks up snow. He wonders vaguely if she’s supposed to be rescuing whoever she thinks lives inside. He mildly hopes she doesn’t get hurt.   
She stops, abruptly, half-crumbling to the ground, with a strange blue halo around her. Someone else- a gigantic skeleton with a fake looking grin- comes out of the car and crosses to her, pulling her gently away from the house back to the curb. She fights him, tears falling, but he doesn’t let go. He holds her until her weak attempts at fighting his hold fall slack, and she turns the fists to hug him instead.

He watches them hug.

It takes him a solid minute before realizing who she is.

He clambers to his feet, setting the bowl of cereal he managed to salvage from the house on the floor, and cautiously approaches you and the skeleton. Your shuddering back is turned to him, and the skeleton sees him first. The dots of light in his eyesockets flick from the blaze to the mysterious stranger in the ratty t-shirt with unmasked suspicion. Nimbus points at himself and mouths, “it’s me”.

Surely if she dragged him all the way out here to find him, he’d know who he is, right?

Sure enough: it seems to dawn on him what’s happening, and a grin slides over his face. A real one, this time. He didn’t even seem to realize the earlier expression was a frown. If not for the circumstances, Nimbus would probably find that creepy as hell. Right now, though, it’s just exciting. 

In a voice several octaves lower than he expected, the skeleton talks to you gently. 

“hey… look, somebody came to see ya.”

You look up, confused, and turn around. At first, you don’t recognize the tall, puffy-haired guy in front of you, but you recognize the eyes. Blue, electrically, powerfully blue. Like yours before your explosion. Needless to say, you hesitate a moment. Just to make sure.

“Nimbus…?”

“Hey.”

Before he can take in another breath, you fling yourself at him, knocking him off his feet and into the snow. Sans chuckles as Nimbus breathes your name, unable to believe that you’re HERE, and you’re YOU, and you’re HAPPY to see HIM. He holds onto you just as tightly as you do him, crushing you to himself.

“Clare-bear, oh my god-”

“Nimbus… oh my god, I thought…”

“No-no-no, I got out in time, it’s fine! Clara, shit, I can’t believe you made it.”

“It’s- it’s fine, we got the postcard back, we found you, it’s okay!”

“You didn’t get it the first time, how the hell did you get it back?”

“You still cuss way too much for your own good.”

“What can I say, ’s what I do. But, how did you get it, how did you… how did you get here?”

He looks up at Sans with a look of curiosity on his face. Sans just grins, shrugging.

“eh, don’t look at me. i’m nobody. just know how to work a van, ’s all.”

“You brought her here?”

“guess ya could say that, but i was mostly just the company. she coulda driven out here herself, ‘m sure.”

“Thank you,” he breathes, almost in awe.

“don’t mention it.”

Sans knows what it’s like to get a sibling back.  
Sans knows the two of you have a lot of catching up to do.  
And most of all, he thinks the three of you should get out of here so you don’t freeze to death.

~~~~~~

“And, she just handed it to you?” Nimbus says, shocked.

“Yeah, just like that, isn’t it weird?”

“I mean, I wonder if she was mad… just wanted to get you off the property, maybe?”

“I bet.”

Sans has been listening to the two of you sit in the backseat together, sharing a blanket and catching up on one another’s lives. Mostly yours, with everything that’s been happening to you lately, including him. You’ve explained the ins and outs of the soul connection you’ve made with him, but haven’t exactly said much about ‘monster marriage’ or fiancés or anything. He gets the feeling you don’t want to scare your brother with something like that yet. Sans just stays quiet, letting you two catch up. He slowly learns a few things about Nimbus from the things he says.

“So… do you still go by Nimbus?”

“Go by it? Oh- yeah, heh, you don’t know. I changed my name. Legally.”

“Oh my god, really? That’s so awesome!”

“Yeah… before I could figure out how to reach your soul, I thought you were, um…”

“Dead?”

“Yeah,” he says, quietly. “But- you’re not. Which, I mean, I could feel you getting closer somehow. It’s like magic.”

“It IS magic! Sans and I bonded our souls, we can feel each other within range and stuff, it must be like, a biological one? Wait, can you feel Sans at all? Am I like the middle point?”

You look from Sans to Nimbus, curious. Sans, blushing furiously, shakes his head.

“that’s, uh… that’s not how it works. different kinds’a bonds, even if they’re both bonds. uh, i’m guessing the biological one was more built-in to your system, but the one we did was more, um, physical? if that makes any sense.”

“Oh. Heh, okay.”

“It’s so interesting,” he marvels. “I started reading up on souls and stuff, but I couldn’t find anything on biological bonds, it’s like nobody ever wrote anything about it. It’s really weird.”

“Weird… god, it’s so weird to think the last time I saw you, I was like, fifteen…”

“I know. I’m- god, I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to explain, I just ran off. I should have taken you with me, I should have… I don’t know, I don’t, I just shouldn’t have.”

“It’s okay.”

“it’s not,” Sans murmurs under his breath, feeling his hands stiffen on the wheel. Why you don’t confront him and tell him how much he hurt you is beyond him. Though admittedly, in your shoes, he probably would have avoided talking about it with Papyrus, too. He would have just said “it’s okay.” Because, though that’s a lie, you’re siblings. That’s what you do as siblings. You protect the other. But yeah, he’s biased and defensive of you, and he wouldn’t break into your conversation, but he can’t help but say it to himself.

“I know it isn’t.” Sans listens carefully, wondering where he’s planning on going with this. “I shouldn’t have gone, I just. I mean, I didn’t want them to find out about me. I’ve got magic, too, I just never told you. Burned down my house by mistake, I got so excited that I felt you coming, but I’ve learned how to sort of, divert my own magic from touching me? I’m bad at it, but I can like- will it?- not to come too close. That’s how I kept from burning myself at the house.”

“I can’t believe it, Sans is teaching me how to do that,” you say, beaming. “How did you figure it out by yourself?”

“I dunno. Don’t remember. Sometimes, though, I remember it was building up like I was going to explode."

That conversation told Sans plenty about Nimbus; he changed his name after the nickname you gave him as a kid. A memorial. He thought you were dead. The two of you have some sort of sibling-soul connection, that Sans still can’t figure out. He has the same kind of magic you have, and was struggling with the same release problems you had, which is why he left you. He didn’t want to be found out. However, he still feels immensely guilty for leaving you. He said a couple things about cycles of magic, when it would come on really strong. It’s been happening for weeks since he felt your soul- at times he thought it would kill him. Sans makes a mental note to walk him through releasing all of it so he doesn’t blow up the van.

Sans just- feels so happy for you. That, despite all this, you get to be happy. That’s all he really wanted to see from you, and you finally have your family back.

And he has you.

God, that feels good.

~~~~~~

You passed out after about nine from adrenaline crash and the like, head slumping on Nimbus, body supported on the huge car bed. Your brother pulled the quilt over you, smirking as he recognized it. it was the pet project he had with you when you were ten. Any scrap of fabric you could salvage were all sewn into the beautiful, warm quilt. And you always sewed the edges in smiley face patterns because you thought it was cuter, even if they didn’t look like smiley faces half the time. He can still recognize some of them.

But, hell, now you’re your own person. You have a monster that you’re clearly in a relationship with, that you’ve bonded with. From the books he’s read, relationship bonds were always incredibly serious milestones in monster relationships. He wonders how long the two of you were together.

He may be a sucky big brother for leaving you all this time, and he knows it, but he can at least check out your boyfriend. Make sure he’s worth your time and effort.

“Hey,” he says, quietly, so as not to wake you, towards the front seat.

Sans glances back, softening a little when he sees you all comfortable and passed out, but then turns his sights on Nimbus.

“heya.”

“Can you maybe explain a little bit about how you know my sister?”

“i know her by havin’ met her, bud.”

Nimbus laughs awkwardly, but tries again. “How long have you known her?”

“a month? maybe a bit more?”

“Oh, wow… isn’t that a little fast to bond to someone?”

“oh, yeah. definitely. but turns out we’re soulmates. and, uh, i don’t mean that in the sappy human way, i mean in the monster way. like, our souls were made for each other, physically. destiny and all that.”

“Is that real?”

“asked the same question, but, is if i’ve ever felt it.”

“Woah, okay… that’s a bit to process.”

“yep. ‘specially coming from a guy like me who takes his sweet time with everything, this is goin’ fast as hell. but, lemme be honest with ya here, bucko, ok? clara is the single best human i’ve ever met. and she nearly burned herself alive at my expense. you’ve never gone through so much loss and happiness and effort in one month. i feel like i’m speedrunnin’ this whole thing, if ya follow me. but i know this: i couldn’t live without ‘er. it would take somethin’ outta me. so trust me when i say i’m not gonna let anythin’ bad happen to yer sister.”

Sans looks in the rearview at him when he goes silent. He’s looking at you, but he’s nodding slowly. He looks so relieved. Sans feels himself tense up slightly, for whatever reason.

“you, though.”

“What?”

“you really don’t know how much you f*cked her up, do you?”

“What?” he repeats, quieter and more confused.

“she… she has nightmares about you leavin’ her every other night. she thinks i’m gonna walk out on her at any second. and i’m a funny guy, i like playin’ around. but playin’ with people’s heads? that’s a really shitty thing to do someone. i’d know, bein’ the butt of it so many times. ’course, ‘m sure it wasn’t all you. yer parents, they did their fair share of f*ckin’ her up, but you messed with her trust. her self esteem. she’s an angel, and she walks around like someone’s gonna pick her up and toss her in the dump if they get too close a look at her.”

He stays silent a minute, trying to think of what else to say, but Nimbus cuts in.

“I know. I don’t deserve to be here with her. She was only ever nice to people- I mean, I’m sure she still is- but you’re right. About all that.”

“kid, ‘m… ‘m not tryna make ya feel bad. we got enough bad feelings around here. i’m just tryna say that you sure as shit need to make it up to her somehow, sooner or later. apologies can’t take things back. not everything.”

Their eyes meet in the mirror, and Sans gives a slightly pained smile.

“i love her, bucko. and i’m not letting her stay in a bad place anymore. i can’t afford that.”

“I understand.”

“glad.” 

After a moment or two of silence, Nimbus jumps as you speak.

“Sans, you need to wash your mouth out with soap. You’re worse than Nimbus. And both of you seriously need to sleep.”

Sans chuckles, slightly embarrassed that you heard everything he said, pulling off into a pit stop. Nimbus looks like he’s about to self-implode with shame, but manages to gulp and nod.

Once everyone gets settled, Nimbus moving to the front so you and Sans can sleep together, you wish everyone a good night (“Seriously, this time,”) and curl into Sans’ warmth. He rubs your back, plants a gentle kiss on your head, and falls asleep. Fish Stick, to Nimbus’ surprise, pokes his head out of a pile of t-shirts on the dashboard and mews to be held. Nimbus picks him up- the cat almost seems to inspect the new human in his car before seemingly deciding he’s worthy of trust and falling asleep in his hands. He tilts his car seat back so he can recline, sets the kitten on his chest, and buckles himself up tightly so he doesn’t roll over on his side and crush the tiny thing.

He falls asleep thinking about what Sans said.

“playin’ with people’s heads? that’s a really shitty thing to do someone.”

He’s going to fix all this eventually. He swears he will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, i gotta admit: i feel really heckin terrible for not posting anything save for updating this work  
> that's for a lot of reasons, namely writers block, being Distracted Slightly By Romance And Stuff, and the thirty thousand craft projects i've been working on lately.... it'll all work itself out eventually, i'm sure! 
> 
> (tl;dr) sorry for not updating as often my dudes
> 
> question of the day: whats your favorite flavor of the alphabet yes or no


	25. Sing Already

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet! It's just a little happy-chappy~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clara and Nimbus sing [No Matter What](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O9_wACQvhys) by Steven Universe  
> Sans does [Haven't Met You Yet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AJmKkU5POA) by Michael Bublé
> 
> okay but i listened to havent met you yet for the first time in months and was just immediately floored  
> i forgot how good this guys voice is  
> anyway here you go

It’s been really awkward since you heard Sans lecture Nimbus last night. Waking up was normal, and you do feel significantly more upbeat than usual. (It feels so surreal to have them both here at once. It’s really nice.) Sans, as per usual, did his typical “five more minutes let me hug you” move, and then you were back on the road again. Nimbus was passed out in the drivers seat with Fish Stick on his chest, and you had to wake him up and take the sleepy kitten out of his hands to feed him. Fish Stick was not happy about this. (You’re happy your brother has bonded with SOMEONE around here.)

When you sit in the back to continue catching up with him, he looks really guilty. He keeps breaking off on different trains of thought. You know Sans was just mad, like he was at your parents, but you do sort of wish he hadn’t said anything in the first place. Or at least didn’t say it like he did. You can sort of see a it of dullness in his eyelights in the front seat. Maybe he feels bad about it?

But, despite all of this: you do want to get one thing out of today. Getting Nimbus to sing. He’s significantly better at than you, if your memory serves. It was one of your favorite things to do together, way back when. And, who knows, maybe you can convince both your brother AND Sans to do a duet or something. You probably won’t join in- you’re tone deaf, and you know it- but you do want to hear them sing something. At least, at LEAST Nimbus. It’s been too long. 

“Do you remember, uh,” you struggle to remember the name of the song on purpose so that he’ll pick it up. “That song? The one you used to sing all the time?”

“‘Course,” he laughs, blushing a little bit. 

Not the reaction you were hoping for. 

“What was it called?”

“Well, there were a whole bunch of ‘em. That one movie soundtrack, I think, but the one you really liked was-“ he breaks off and sings a few verses under his breath so he can get to the chorus- “I don’t remember… god, what was that one part.”

“You can just sing the part you know, if you want,” you offer, hopefully.

He looks at you a second, then sits back appraisingly. “Oooh. You just want me to sing it again.”

“Well… yeah!” you say, defensively, when he starts laughing at you. “You had such a nice voice! And, I mean, let’s face it, I can’t sing. It feels nice to hear it from someone else.”

“We could… build up to it?”

“How?”

Nimbus looks at your hopeful face and feels his gut drop. He sings for you, and hasn’t done much of it since. On one hand, he doesn’t want to do this because Sans is in the car. Great guy, but he’s still pretty apprehensive after last night’s little confrontation. And besides, his singing was for you. To make you feel better after a hard day, or whatever. He would sing for you to help you let off steam. The guy in the front seat just stresses him out a little bit. Like he’s judging him.

Anxiety must run in the family, no?

But on the other hand, he wants to make it up to you for what he did, even in a little way like this. So he pulls out his phone and punches the few lyrics he can remember into safari. Only a few seconds later, he has a youtube video with a sing-along pulled up, chuckling as the intro makes you gasp and grin with nostalgia. 

“In the light of the day,” he hums quietly, hoping Sans can’t hear him too well- “In the dark of the night. When you’re raring to go, when you’re tired from the fight. When you’re losing your mind… let me give you a thought. I’m gonna be right by your side, no matter what!”

You chant along after him as he goes, giggling giddily.

“In the light of the day,” he sings.

“In the light of the day!” you follow, tapping your feet.

Sans glances from the rearview to look at your face. Not that he needs to, your soul is telling him everything he needs to know. But you’re just too cute, grinning like you just won the lottery as you stare at the little sing-along video. Your voice is horrible as ever, breaking and never quite able to hit the right notes, wobbly and somehow still sickeningly sweet. You’re trying so hard to get to the right pitch, your smile honest, but tight with concentration. Sans reminds himself that he needs to try dancing with you sometime. He’s horrible, sure, but he thinks it would be something just, playful and easy to do with you. 

It hits him like a ton of bricks, all at once, how much you’ve been through this month. He can see you look up when you feel the wrecking-ball of shock ring through him, but he just grins and shrugs it off, telling you in his head not to worry. It’s not anything scary, not anything sad or anything that hurts him: he’s just shocked. A delayed reaction, he supposes, to just going with things for so long. You nearly burned to death with the weight of your own magic, were (essentially) saved by your soulmate, went on a road trip to Canada in order to save your long-lost brother, and cracked your soul talking to your parents. It sounds like something out of a novel. It sounds like something a cruel author would put on someone. But, by some miracle, it’s all happening. And he gets to be a part of it. That’s the best part, isn’t it! That he’s been through his own share of weird sci-fi trauma, and he’s made it out here to you. To YOU.

You…

God, he never recognized just how much he needed you before he had you.  
Though, of course he wouldn’t, he didn’t know you.   
He wished he’d bought you that damn cupcake years sooner than he did. 

“I’m gonna be right by your side,”

“Be right by your side!”

“Be right by your side no matter what!”

Apparently that was the end, because both you and Nimbus cheer in the backseat. Sans sees you hug him and giggle a lot.

“I’m so glad you’re back, I missed you so much,” you squeal.

“Sappy much?” he asks, snorting.

“Oh, don’t do that! I love you, ya dumbass.”

Sans freezes. He’s never felt so territorial of, well, ANYONE in his life as he is right now, at those words. Though he knows you’re saying it an a brother-sister way, to your brother, which is totally FINE… he still feels like he never wants you to say it to anyone else but him. He wishes he owned the words, almost. He tries to calm himself down a little- sooner or later, Nimbus's going to get a new house, and Sans will have you all to himself again. He rubs his eyesockets, wondering why that thought gives him happy chills. Hell, he never knew skeletons could get chills at all. You’re his. All his. And he’ll show you, sooner or later, somehow… god, he’s probably too tired for this.

“Sans, you’re sweating… did the heat start working again?” you ask, from the backseat. 

“nah, just hopin’ you don’t ask me to start singin’,” he says, winking at you. He can brush this off. It’s okay. It’s fine!

He thinks he can see the exact second when you feel the little rush in your soul of what he was feeling, because your face gets bright red. However, though, you do manage to play it off pretty well. You might just be a tad bit distracted by the idea of him singing-

“Didn’t know you singing was an option! C’mon, one song!”

Great. What has he gotten himself into now? “nah, you guys have fun.”

“For me?”

How could he say no to that? How?

“fine. i pick the song though, hand it over.”

He reaches back and takes Nimbus’ phone, driving one handed while he searches up a song. He needs something smooth, in his range, easy, and something he’s heard before. He doesn’t want to be staring and tripping over the lyrics the entire time, thank you very much. However, you do notice the light blue blush on his face when he finds one, smirking when you recognize it. 

Your smirk doesn’t stay on long, though.

“i’m not surprised- not everything lasts. i’ve broken my heart so many times, i’ve stopped keeping track.”

Good lord.

That sounds really nice in his voice.

“talk myself in, i talk myself out- i get all worked up, then i let myself down.”

You unbuckle your seat belt and crawl into the front to hear him better, which Sans can’t deny he likes. You’re half-draped over the center console, chin supported on the heels of your hands as you listen to him. He can’t help but look at your little enamored face as he croons along to the music.

“i tried so very hard not to lose it… i came up with a million excuses. i thought i thoughta every poss-ibi-li-ty.”

It picks up, and you start tapping on the seat. 

“and i know someday that it’ll all turn out, you’ll make me work so we can work to work it out~ and i promise you, kid, that i give so much more than i get-“ you squeak happily as he dramatically sweeps his hand under your chin and tilts your head up to kiss him, brief so he can get back to watching the road. “i just, haven’t met-you-yet!”

You notice that he’s really starting to get into this as he goes, singing louder and with more enthusiasm. Enthusiasm is a rare thing to get out of him, you’ve noticed, for being such a mellow person, normally. You suppose you did that, one way or another. It makes you feel proud.

“i might have to wait, i’ll never give up. i guess it’s half timing, and the other half’s luck- wherever you are, whenever it’s right, you come out of nowhere and into my life.”

You snicker at the truth of the statement.

“and i know that we can be so amazin’. and baby, your love is gonna change me… and now i can see every pos-sib-ili-ty.”

That’s when you started to hear it, peeking out slowly, like sunshine through clouds. Not all at once, blaring, but careful. Hesitant. Vulnerable.

“and somehow i know it’ll all turn out. and you’ll make me work so we can work to work it out. and, i promise you, kid, i give so much more than i get~ mm, i just, haven’t, met! you! yet!”

His soul song.

As he works through the rest of the song, tapping the steering wheel, peppering you in kisses, and never stopping singing, you can hear it. Not in a literal way, not hearing it in your ears. It’s like you’re hearing it in your head, like you’re wearing headphones and all the other noises around you are on the outside. It’s low, and deep, and rich. Nothing light and sweet like yours- darkened with time and trauma, but still singing. Not any instrument you can recognize, not a voice. A feeling. HIM.

“I have been through hell and come out singing,” you laugh to yourself.

“what’d ya say- oh, shit, what’s wrong?” Sans asks, pausing the music when he sees the tears beading in your eyes. “i mean, i know i’m bad, but i didn’t think i was that bad.”

You climb over the center console and hug him- he holds you with one arm, steering with the other, confused as hell. Your soul is absolutely exploding, the sweetest damn melody he’s ever heard, but your eyes are watering.

“baby, what happened, for real? you’re uh, scarin’ me a little here…”

“I-“ you can think of a million things you want to say right now, but only one comes to mind in particular. “I love you so much, I’m so proud of you.”

“wh- pfft- what?”

“Don’t you hear it?”

“hear what?”

He looks down when you tap on his chest, over his soul. For a moment, he’s confused, but then in slowly dawns on him.

“’s my soul singin’?”

“Yeah,” you say, a huge grin on your face. “I don’t know how you don’t hear it, it’s so… happy.”

“shit, hasn’t done that in ages,” he mumbles. “but i wouldn’t know, nobody hears their own soul song. it’d follow you around like a theme song, be annoying as hell. pap said it stopped singin’ ages ago.”

“Are you happy?”

He looks down at you and smiles, brushing the tears off your face.

“yeah.”

You nuzzle your face into his hand, and he laughs.

“you really are a sap, berry.”

You snort and pull away, laughing and pushing him a little. 

This is going to be quite a drive home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> question of the day when should the next update be  
> yall get to choose  
> (no same-day delivery :) )


	26. Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a dead scientist puts the pieces of a crumbling soul back together and Sans finally cuts off a family tie...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, frantically remembering I promised to put this up on Sunday: FRICK
> 
> My Wifi: I shleep
> 
> Me, uploading this on my phone: HAHA BITC-

You’re halfway home.

It seems to be going so much faster without all the heartache, with talking to your brother, with holding your little kitten, with Sans being so happy recently. You can hear his soul song most of the time now! It’s still as deep and rich as when you first heard it. It sounds like something a romantic composer would write. You want to compare it to the same feeling you get when you hear the Ave Maria, if the Ave Maria were much, much lower. And had no words. You fall asleep to it at night: sometimes you can faintly hear the echoes in his chest of yours singing in unison with it. 

Nimbus sings with you, too, but not via soul song: more literally. All the old songs the two of you used to obsess over, nitpicking word by word, note by note. Sans has noticed a general improvement in your singing abilities when you sing with your brother’s guidance. It feels vaguely like he’s drawing back the curtains of your voice, clearing away some of the chaos to hear what you really sound like. 

Song has permeated this van. 

Song has permeated your soul.

And you simply cannot get enough of it.

On this particular night, Sans is humming something long and low and slow to lull you off to sleep, after you’d begged and begged for him to sing. The humming had been his compromise. He holds you in sturdy arms, surrounding you in the safety, humming gently. Despite the safe environment, the opportunity to clear your mind only invites in unwanted worries. 

What are you going to do when you get home? You wonder if you’ll go back to living alone. Or maybe, will you live with Nimbus? After nearly a month waking with Sans at your side, you can’t help but feel slightly averse to the idea. Not that you don’t want Nimbus around, you do! You desperately do. You don’t know what it would be like to lose him again. What if you do?

You feel the pad of a thumb smooth the crease between your eyebrows, feel Sans rocking you gently and anchoring you to reality. 

“don’ worry ‘bout it-“ he yawns. “we’ll figure things out. ’s all fallen into place so far.”

“Do you believe that?” you ask, quietly. The worried thoughts start hitting harder and stronger. He can still leave, either of them can, you can still die, you aren’t safe from yourself, you’re going to burn, Sans won’t be there to stop it the second time around.

“you keep thinkin’ like that, yer never gonna sleep.”

“Who says I need to?”

“basic human anatomy, i thought?”

He sighs and takes one of your hands when you crack open your eyes, staring at his chest and frowning. 

“just fall asleep. dream for a couple minutes, i’ll be there.”

You finally, out of pure curiosity, force yourself to fall asleep. He rubs your back, and after a few minutes of listening to Nimbus’ soft snores and feeling the rise and fall of Sans’ chest, you drift off into the warm embrace of darkness. This… doesn’t feel like how you normally fall asleep. It’s like you left your body and and walked into this place. It’s dark, dark, dark: pitch black as far as the eye can see. And… familiar. There’s a name on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t quite remember it. When you see the skull in the distance of the black, you feel the name rise in your brain, but it sinks when it’s just Sans.

“berry? where are ya? dark as hell around here…”

“I’m over here,” you say, standing and waving. He strolls over to you, a weak-looking smile on his face.

“how did you… get here? ’s this where ya dream? i mean, i was expectin’ an actual dream, not… jesus…”

“Where is here?” you ask, curiously. “It’s deja vu if I’ve ever felt it.”

“it’s… it’s the void. i don’t understand how you’ve been here before, i’ve only ever seen it once or twice. weird shit. don’t love it.”

“He’ll be here in a minute,” you blurt out. You don’t know how, but you know for sure that it’s true. Whoever he is.

“who?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember, but… we have to wait for him.”

“uh… look. whatever you’re thinkin’ of, it’s freakin’ me out. mind tellin’ me who “he” is?”

“I don’t… remember? But every time I end up here, he always… he always wants to see you.”

He narrows his eyes at you, borderline suspiciously, and takes a step backwards.

“hold on a sec. you a dream? or are you real? i can’t tell.”

“I’m real, I swear, this is always the dream I forget when I wake up! C’mon, you have to stay, just for a minute. Just so he sees you, okay? He… he helped heal me when I was knocked out. he kept me company and told me you were still looking out for me. I would have given up if not for… if not for…”

The white of the skull and drifting hands blooms in the distance and the name comes to your lips again.

“Gaster!”

Sans jolts suddenly and harshly when he sees the cracked, warped version of the person he used to know. He pulls you back and behind him, defensively. You’re confused, he can see it. But Sans knows the difference between a monster and… and something worse. Humans call humans that are insane or broken beyond repair “monsters”. But there are very few words for what a monster can call another monster broken to this extent. “Demon,” maybe. Whatever it is…

It isn’t monster anymore.

“S a n s ?”

“get back.”

“Sans, it’s fine, he won’t hurt you! He’s really nice-“

“stop, don’t come any closer.”

Gaster stops in his tracks, tilting his cracked skull curiously at Sans.

“D o y o u n o t r e c o g n i z e -“

“i recognize ya fine, bud, but you clearly ain’t him anymore.”

“I a m -“

“stop. ok? i have no clue at all how the hell yer here, but you need to STAY AWAY from clara and me. and anyone else.”

“T h a t i s n o t w h a t y o u u s e d t o w a n t .”

“l i t t l e l a t e f o r t h a t , a i n ’ t i t ?"

You look at Sans nervously as he speaks in the same garbled language as Gaster, seemingly on accident. He coughs, as if to clear his throat, seeming fairly nervous about the slip-up himself. You try to hold his hand to comfort him a little, only to feel him shaking. The contact also helps you connect to how he feels right now. Petrified. He’s so scared, a million feelings, a hundred years, of guilt, and regret, and pent-up anger. Overriding all of it, though, is a thought.

“worry about it when you’re home. worry about it when you’re alone. worry about it later. feel later. keep her safe now. keep her safe now and work out the rest later.”

You come out in front of him, putting yourself between the two skeletons. Sans tells you to get behind him, but you don’t listen. You let go of his hand, still making gentle eye contact with him. You try to tell him not to be afraid with your eyes, as you can see the growing panic on his face, in his eyelights. You turn to Gaster. He nods at you appreciatively.

“T h a n k y o u f o r b r i n g i n g h i m .”

“I mean, it was mostly an accident, but… I thought you’d want to see him.”

“I n d e e d .”

“So…” you turn to the side, so you can watch both of them at once. “You’re his… dad?”

“’s that what’cha told her?” Sans breathes, almost looking amused. Amused and angry. “‘cause, that’s the funniest joke i ever heard, honest.”

“I r a i s e d t h e m , y e s .”

You frown. Under Sans’ scrutiny, he seems to be shying away from the idea.

“Someone’s gonna have to explain this.”

“he basically grew us like science experiments,” Sans says, quietly. He doesn’t sound ashamed: he sounds accusatory. “drop a little bitta bone in a test tube long enough, ya get…”

He trails off, and he’s shaking his head slowly like he suddenly lost the energy to go on being mad.

“god. paps would be losin’ his mind right about now.”

“H o w i s h e ?”

“he’s happy. fine.”

“G o o d . . . l a s t I c h e c k e d , h e w a s d y i -“

“no.”

“N o ?”

“don’t… talk about that. just let us get outta here.”

He turns to you, extending a slightly shaking hand. You look from it to him. He seems almost desperate for you to take it, for you to come with him. You turn from him, to Gaster, and finally turn to the latter.

“I’m sorry.”

“I a m , a s w e l l .”

“For wh- what are you doing.”

The darkness is rising around you- Sans stumbles forward to try and get you free of the choking blackness, but he finds he cannot move. Your noises of struggle are drowned out by the black, almost liquid, stuff.

“stop- let her go, what are you doing, she’ll drown!”

“T h e f i c k l e n a t u r e s o f d r e a m s . . .”

You give Sans one more fleeting look of terror before being swallowed into the darkness. He looks around for any sign of you, but there isn’t anything. Just the darkness and the voices and the tricks.

“. . . h o w q u i c k l y t h e y c a n b e c h a n g e d .”

“what did you do, what if you do to her, where is she?!”

“I t d o e s n o t m a t t e r .”

“no-!”

Gaster is on him in a moment, restraining him with some kind of magic, looking him up and down before tearing up his shirt to look at the pounding blue and white soul.

“Y o u c o u l d h a v e b e e n k i l l e d .”

“since when did you care about dying.”

“D o n o t t a k e t h i s l i g h t l y .”

“who CARES what the soul bond did, her was hurting and i needed to-“

“W o u l d l e a v i n g h e r b e “ n e e d e d “ ?”

“no!”

There’s something, someone squeezing his soul so tightly he screams, he thinks this demon is going to dust him, he thinks that this will be it. it feels like a thousand needles are hitting the most sensitive parts of himself, HARD, and there’s nothing he can do about it but thrash to no avail.

“S t o p w h i n i n g . I h a d t o d o s o m e t h i n g .”

“ngh- stop-“

“T h e y w i l l w o r r y a f t e r y o u . . .”

“let me GO.”

“R e s t n o w . . . y o u a r e f i x e d .”

Sans wakes up with a start. His soul is pounding- he’s outside, and the cold wind is swirling snow around his head. He sits up, terrified for a split second that he’s been sent back to Snowdin, somehow. But then he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder, warm and tentative. He turns to you. You have a confused, slightly worried look on your face.

“Hey… ’s just me.”

“yeah,” he says, seemingly struck dumb.

“Are you okay? You teleported out of the van a minute ago. Bad dream or something?”

“i don’t. . . remember.”

“Yeah,” you say, hugging him gently. “Me, neither.”

He gets to his feet, grunting a little when his soul throbs slightly. 

“hold on… hold on a sec.”

He crouches down and draws out his soul, shielding it from the snow with his hand. The large cracks and scars are healed, for the most part, though it still looks uncomfortable. Like someone gave it stitches with a knitting needle. Helpful, maybe, but it hurts like hell.

“how the hell…” he breathes.

“It wasn’t like that before,” you say, pointing out the obvious. He catches your eyes, and there’s no mistaking the obvious concern and confusion in both of your faces. “Does it hurt?”

“yeah. a little.”

“Should we call someone?”

He shakes his head, returning it to his chest.

“nah. sorry if i scared ya, just panicked a little.”

“That’s okay…”

He gets up again, barely masking the current of pain in his bones as his soul aches. You do your best to try and let him lean on you, but you’re too short. He appreciates it, though. The solid warmth of it. 

“You’re gonna rest for a while, alright? You need a break.”

“‘f you think so, i’m not gonna stop ya, berry.”

“Good.”

He pulls you a little tighter to himself, vague, shadowy memories of dreams swimming in his vision. You were pulled away from him, into the dark. The sound of your cries as you went into the blackness. No more of that, not now. Not right now.

He still has no idea what’s been done to him.

Soul bonding, when there is a stronger soul bonding with a weaker soul, can be dangerous. For some, especially within forced bonds, it can be fatal to the weaker soul. You put together the powerful, magic wielding soul of a human, and the weak, almost HoPe-less soul of a monster, and you’re running some serious risks. Sans knew this going in. He didn’t care. Your soul would help nurse him back to full health, whether you knew it or not, he was sure of it. He was right. That was fine for the first little while, totally fine. But then the cracks got wider. And his HP got lesser. And as the bond grew, his soul was starting to become like a collapsing building, held together with overgrown vines. Beautiful, unstable, and prone to collapse. By being stitched back together, so to speak, by someone who shares a family bond with him, he was pulled from the edge of that cliff. And luckily so: the truth be told, he might have fallen down without such help.

The trouble is… how much did the help hurt him?

You tug him in and make him lay down on the bed, futzing with the blankets and shutting the door behind you hurriedly so it doesn’t get too cold. Sans sort of just watches you take care of him for a minute until you seem, for the most part, satisfied. 

“hey, berry, you mind helpin’ me out a little?”

“Of course.”

“just… can ya try a little more healin’ magic? i just wanna go back to sleep.”

“Yeah, I can try… do you want me to do it through your soul, or just on you?”

“soul, ‘f ya can.”

You lay down next to him, as if the proximity will make it easier, and focus on the little bit of his soul in you. Focus on soothing it, on using gentle finger-fuls of magic and concentrating them into something that can help. He feels it instantly, the cool rush of the magic on his twisted soul. He lets it relax his body enough to sleep. You lay awake, though, long after he’s dozed off.

Your fingers travel to the scar on your back once again.

You worry about Sans a lot sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question of the day my dudes:::::  
> what do you guys do to feel better when you’re Hella Depressed And In Physical Pain
> 
> .......asking for a friend
> 
> Oh and next update on the  
> I have no idea but it might not be soon bc I ran out of buffer chapters and I have a new idea FINALLY and animal crossing


	27. Lil update here (ill delete this later)

sup nerds this story's gonna end soon and im tryin to find a way to wrap it up properly so it's takin me a tad bit of time i present my List Of Excuses:

-ive got a new (multichapter) thing in the works!! it's super sad and basically just me radiating Depressed Bastard energy

\- ~~animal crossing~~ debt simulator has ruined me. tom nook is a little f*cker 

-new music im listening to

\- good god im tired

-flamingburningnormaltrash is my friend (u no what you did bish)

welp ill be back to start wrapping this up on the 20th at least but i might start the other sad story before that so dont forget about me

byeeeeeeee


	28. Not-Wedding Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus has big plans- and though you hate to let him down...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> third to last chapter baybee

“hooooome stretch!” Sans announces from the front seat, looking back at you and Nimbus with a grin. “just crossed the state line.”

“Honk honk!” you say, tugging on some invisible pulley- Sans beeps the horn for you.

It’s a fun scene in the van right now- Sans is driving, and has been for a while. You were worried about him before, but he seems happy to do it. He’s been more energized after the swelling in his soul went down a bit and you gave him a bit of healing magic. It was like he was weak before, and now he’s healed or something. (The dream is still hazy… Sans doesn’t like thinking about it.) You’ve been sitting in the back and practicing your singing with Nimbus for the past half hour, but he’s busy feeding Fish Stick now. After your brother did his own research, it looks like you’ve been doing some things wrong when it comes to caring for him- he needs more food, more warmth, and a few more naps per day to be healthy. It’s helping the two bond a bit more.

In a way, you feel like you’ve picked up right where you left off with your relationship with him. And that’s all you wanted.

“So, Clare, if you don’t mind me asking,” Nimbus says, playfully. “What was that phone call about earlier? You’ve been especially chipper since then, I’ve gotta say.”

“I just got word we’re getting a little bit of a welcome home party, ’s all,” you say, elbowing him. “We’d actually better stop in the town coming up here and pick up some chips or something.”

“Sweet! Can’t wait.”

“nice, ok,” Sans chimes in.

You jump slightly when you hear his voice. It’s not that you’re afraid of him. But… there may be just be a bit more than a welcome home party going on at home. You’re supposed to propose to Sans when you get home, apparently. They’ve set up a wedding venue, and you have to kick it off. You’ve been discreetly releasing magic since you got the call, as your anxiety makes it build up more and more. This is all going so fast. SO fast. You don’t even know if you WANT it to go this fast, but what are you going to do? I mean- you know you’re going to inevitably marry him. At this point, you doubt there’s anything he can do that would make that fact change. You just… click. So you feel like you might as well marry him now, rather than later, with this perfect little wedding his friends set up. 

But it’s only been, what- a month? Maybe a month and a half? You’ve known people who have gotten married faster, but it typically doesn’t last as long. You don’t want to regret this. You don’t want to let him down, let his friends down, let his family down, let anyone down. Not anymore. You might know, deep down, that it’s perfectly reasonable to tell his friends to call it off for now: but you don’t think you can. And maybe you shouldn’t.

You’re exhilarated, and nervous, and scared. It feels… alive. You like it. 

~~~~~~~

Papyrus knows he’s supposed to be downstairs looking at things and make sure plans are going smoothly. Forgive Undyne: but for all her coolness and strength, she was never the best at planning things without breaking them. But… he found an old photo album of him and his brother of them. Some seem edited, like they were supposed to be with a third person, but they aren’t there anymore, but he finds himself not questioning it. Sans used to be TALLER than him in some of these: Imagine that! Goodness, he was small. Looking at each old photo carefully, he noticed more than a few things. For most of them, Sans was at work, toting him in a basket or tied around his back in a handmade-blanket-baby-backpack. Sans was incredibly thin, even for a skeleton, and he had heavy black marks under his eyesockets. However, Papyrus looked like the happiest, healthiest little babybones ever. It dawns on him that maybe Sans wasn’t eating or sleeping much. 

Wouldn’t be much of a change…

He hopes you’ll remember to take care of his brother, as bad as he is at taking care of himself. And maybe he’ll learn to take care of you, too.

“Papyrus, dear?”

“OH!” he says, jumping to his feet and turning around, hiding the album behind his back. “HELLO, YOUR MAJESTY!”

“Just Toriel is fine… oh, dear, are you alright?”

“WHAT?”

“You’re crying. Or- were crying. Are you doing alright?”

He scrubs at his eyesockets with one gloved hand, slightly surprised at himself. He’s not a crier- more of a worrier, sure, but rarely a crier. He hasn’t cried since Frisk passed out before leaving the Underground, and everyone thought they were dead. That was scary. So, this is weird. Why is he crying at a HAPPY occasion?

“I THOUGHT I WAS DOING FINE, ACTUALLY, EH- I DIDN’T ACTUALLY REALIZE I WAS! NOT THAT- NOT THAT I WAS! CRYING, THAT IS. BECAUSE THE GREAT PAPYRUS DOESN’T CRY, YOU SEE. NYEH HEH!”

“Papyrus, it is alright to cry,” she says, smiling gently. “You must be going through a lot right now- you have lived with Sans all your life, have you not? Not seeing him every day would seem a daunting task, if it were me.”

“NONSENSE! NO TASK IS DAUNTING TO THE GREAT PAPYRUS! NOT EVEN, NOT SEEING HIS BROTHER EVERYDAY! AND NOT. GETTING BEDTIME STORIES ANYMORE. OR COOKING FOR ANYONE.” He drifts off, frowning at the floor. Toriel pats his arm gently.

“If you would like, I could come over for dinner some nights- on the nights Sans cannot come visit, of course, as he lives so close by. I miss reading bedtime stories to people.”

“I GREATLY APPRECIATE IT, YOUR- MISS TORIEL, BUT YOU DO NOT HAVE TO.”

While considering the offer, Papyrus shuffles the album into his hands to futz with the pages, momentarily forgetting she wasn’t supposed to see it.

“A photo album, is it not?” Toriel asks, quietly. “We used to call it a baby book, at home. Goodness, you two must have been so cute as children.”

“OH. I DIDN’T- I MEAN, I WASN’T, PRECISELY, EH- WELL.”

“It is nothing to be embarrassed about, dear. I would have done the same thing. May I see?”

“OF COURSE.”

She takes the book from his hands, then gets down criss-cross applesauce on the floor. He follows her example, sitting behind her so he can look at the pages she looks at. She flips through, gently so as not to hurt any of the yellowing pictures. 

“Why was Sans at work at such a young age?”

“WE DIDN’T GET OUR HOME FOR FREE! HE WAS OUR BREADWINNER, OF SORTS, BEFORE MY BONES GOT LARGE ENOUGH FOR ME TO GO BUILD PUZZLES.”

“Goodness, he could have asked someone for some spare change, I’m sure anyone in Snowdin would have been happy to help!”

“PEOPLE IN SNOWDIN WERE VERY HELPFUL! JUST NOT IN THE WAY OF LIVING SPACES.”

“I see… you two were so small,” she giggles. “Sans looks so energetic! Imagine that, hehe. Do you remember any of these things, dear?”

“I HAVE VERY FEW MEMORIES AS A BABYBONES, I AM AFRAID. I MOSTLY JUST REMEMBER HAVING TO HELP TAKE CARE OF SANS WHEN HE GOT INJURED AT ONE JOB OR ANOTHER… OH, AND GYFTMAS.”

After a pause, she shuts the album and looks at him, looking concerned. “You must be quite worried about this change, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t look her in the eyes, but instead chooses to smile awkwardly and shrug. 

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS NEVER WORRIED! NYEH…! You know me…” He sighs, still with the sad smile. “Sans will want me to be very great, and very excited and happy. And I am! I can’t wait for this. I just don’t want him to go just yet. That is all.”

“He won’t be going, not really. You two are brothers. You’re connected in ways he and Clara could never connect. He’d be lost without you.”

“That’s just it! He would be! So- if he’s going, how do I know if the human can help care for him? I trust her, of course, but she doesn’t know him like I do. He needs to be protected! What if she can’t do it right?”

“She can learn from you.”

He pauses, then nods, slowly. 

“That sounds… TERRIFIC! I CAN TEACH HER EVERY LITTLE BIT OF SANS KNOWLEDGE I HAVE, AND SHE CAN BRING HIM OVER WITH HER WHEN SHE COMES TO LEARN! IT WILL BE FANTASTIC!”

“Oh, yay! I’m glad you like it,” she giggles. A loud CRASH resounds from downstairs, followed by the sounds of Undyne yelling. “That is my cue to go help, I believe- would you like to come with me?”

“I WOULD LIKE THAT VERY MUCH! THIS IS GOING TO BE THE BEST WEDDING THERE HAS EVER BEEN, AND NOTHING CAN GO WR-“

“Don’t jinx it!” she says, quickly. His eyesockets go wide and he nods, miming zipping his mouth closed and throwing out the key. 

“I WOULDN’T DREAM OF IT!” he says, taking her hand and leading her down the rest of the stairs.

~~~~~~

“Sans?” you ask, suddenly, through a mouthful of chips.

“yeah?”

“What’s your shortcut range before you hurt yourself?”

“that’s a specific question. with or without people?”

“With people. Like, shortcut range of this van and everyone in it.”

“oh, geez,” he says, face scrunched up a little in concentration. “short. maybe, five miles? and that’s a stretch.”

“So… what you’re saying is we can make a dramatic entrance when we arrive at home?”

“oooh. oh, hell yeah, we can.”

“Nice.”

~~~~~~

“THEY’RE GONNA BE HERE IN TWO MINUTES, PEOPLE, LET’S MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!” Undyne cries, getting everyone into position. 

Most people are hiding, so they can jump out and cheer after your proposal, but Papyrus is standing at the gate with Toriel to greet you and make Sans think everything is normal. It’s like a surprise birthday party, but two people get to enjoy it. Papyrus beams at that. This is going to be amazing. Everything is set up in the backyard!

Asgore is here to be the priest of sorts, since he has the authority to officiate monster marriages and nobody had to pay him. Undyne and Alphys are going to be your bridesmaids, and Toriel is going to be your maid of honor. Obviously Papyrus is Sans’ best man: how could he not be? He doesn’t really need anyone else. And the flower girl- technically the flower child- is Frisk, holding a little basket of daisy petals and wearing a suit jacket and a skirt. Toriel sees the van pull up first-

“Oh, goodness, there they are!” she squeals in a whisper, clapping her hands. “I never thought I’d see the day he got married, and here I am!”

“SHH!” Undyne insists from the bushes. Toriel mouths an apology in her general direction.

As soon as the van pulls to a stop, Papyrus runs over excitedly and practically yanks his brother out of the car, and right into a hug. Maybe a little more restraint would have made it less obvious, but, Sans doesn’t seem to mind. He’s used to his brother’s enthusiasm.

“OHMYGOODNESSGRACIOUSICAN’TBELIEVEYOU’REBACK!!!”

“hello to you, too.”

“DON’T BE A PARTY POOPER, BROTHER! NOW WHERE IN THE WORLD IS CLARA?!”

You step out from the other side of the vehicle, but before you can even properly greet him, he scoops you into a hug, too. 

“I HAVE MISSED YOU BOTH GREATLY! WAS THE MISSION A SUCCESS?”

“t’was indeed, bro.”

“THEN WHERE IS THIS ‘NIMBUS’ HUMAN YOU’VE BEEN TELLING ME SO MUCH ABOUT!”

With a quiet shift and click as he steps out of the van, your gangly brother shifts onto the driveway. He looks both nervous and excited all at once. Like if he had to choose he would be somewhere else, where it’s dark and safe, but being here isn’t SO bad.

“Hello. You’re Papyrus, right?”

“OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!”

The taller skeleton nearly drops you and Sans in his haste to snatch Nimbus into the hug, too.

“I AM! SO! HAPPY! I CAN EVEN DESCRIBE HOW HAPPY I AM BUT I’M ABOUT TO GET EVEN HAPPIER!!!!”

“why, bro?”

“CLARA HAS SOMETHING! TO SAY! OVER HERE!”

He drops all of you unceremoniously and drags you and Sans to the front steps of your house. Sans looks at you for an explanation, but you’re too freaked out to give one. It’s not that you think he’ll say no- it’s that you don’t know if you should do it at all, but the social stigma is so strong right here.

“what’s goin’ on, berry?” he smirks. He has an idea of what’s happening, but maybe your faint shaking clued him into the fact that you’re nervous. More nervous than you should be.

“YES!! WHAT IS GOING ON, HUMAN?!” Papyrus shouts. When you look over at him, he’s giving you a thumbs-up.

“I, uh. Um,” you get down on one knee, trying to stem the weird shaking. Sans looks surprised, and steps back a little. “Will you, um. Would- will you? Uh.”

“oh, geez,” you hear him breathe. “oh, geez.”

“Will you…” you feel like you’re about to say it, but you can’t. You sigh and stand up, slightly humiliated tears pricking at your eyes.

“Nah. I can’t do it. Sans, I really love you, I do, but… I can’t marry you yet. I know I will someday, but, I need more time. And I’m sorry to let everyone down because I’m bad at confrontation and I didn’t want to ruin you guy’s good time making plans for us,” you add, looking around what the bushes and trees where you know Sans’ friends are hiding, “But I can’t. So, I know we’ve technically already known, and said it, and done it, but. Sans, will you be my soulmate?”

He’s looking at you with a mix of bewilderment and wonder by the time you gather the courage to look him full in the face. His smile is wobbly and emotional, and also amused. It’s like every emotion you’ve ever seen on his face is there, all at once, all colliding. So he just bends down and pulls your chin into a kiss. You put your hands on his shoulders as his other hand travels to your hip… and god, don’t you love it.

This is the best not-wedding day you could have asked for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brain, sighing: what were you supposed to do this week?
> 
> Me: write a lotta Blueberry......
> 
> Brain: and what did you do?
> 
> Me: wrote a lotta Sunshine................................... but i got lotsa ideas for sunshine and endings are har-
> 
> Brain, hitting me with a stick: no, bad, no excuses, you gotta finish it
> 
> (see yall on the 24th)


	29. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end.

“WHAAAAAAAT?!” Undyne and Papyrus exclaim- (deja vu…) “YOU DON’T WANT TO???”

“I’m just- I want to just enjoy taking it slower for a bit,” you mumble, defensive and nervous.

“glad to hear it,” Sans says, grinning. “i mean, we’re probably better off doin’ the soulmate thing in the official way first before gettin’ to it, anyway. phew. you scared me for a sec there, berry.”

You give him a shocked look and nail him in the arm (lightly- not because you’re worried about his arm, but about your hand). “Scared you?!” you exclaim, laughing.

“you looked so freaked out, i didn’t want you to pass out!”

“YOU GUYS WERE GOING TO GET MARRIED?!” 

You look around. Nimbus is standing by the car with a wiggling Fish Stick in his hands, slack-jawed and staring. Even the kitten in his hands seems to be disapproving. 

“Uh- yeah?”

“Jeeeesus… nobody thought to tell me? Ask me for a blessing or something? I know you guys are soulmates and all that, but you’ve known each other for, what, a month? And you already want to tie the knot?”

“after all we been through comin’ to get YOU? hell yeah,” Sans grins, tone playful.

“I have nothing to do with it!” he exclaims. He doesn’t seem amused, or frustrated, but he is plain shocked. Like he literally cannot fathom anyone not telling him about this in advance.

Everyone is snickering at him. You’re probably going to owe him a more complete apology later: and you’ll definitely have to make sure that Sans talks to him about it, man-to-man or whatever. You should probably talk to Toriel, she does tend to mother Sans. Maybe you’ll find out something (else) cute about him. In the meantime, though, you just skip over to Nimbus and hold your hands out.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry- can I hold Fishy?”

“His name is Fish Stick!” Nimbus huffs indignantly. “But yes. Only for a minute.”

Sans can see the siblings in you as you bicker for the kitten: of course, you win. Fish Stick is quickly cradled in your hands. He observes the loud, bright, not-van world around him with wide-eyed wonder. After giving him a quick *boop* on the nose, you hold him with one hand and grab Nimbus’ hand with the other.

“We should get ice cream,” you say, firmly. “All of us! And you’re coming, too.” 

Frisk materializes from behind a bush, trots up to you, and nods firmly and quickly. You giggle and muss their hair. “You’re comin’, too.”

“Agh! Look at all those humans!” Undyne says, pointing at the three of you with her best damsel-in-distress impression. 

“Roar,” Nimbus says, in his most deadpan voice. Papyrus fake-faints and Undyne catches him, snorting with laughter.

You laugh and hug him and Frisk together. Yep. Three humans with a lot of issues, who got some monster-help. A pretty lucky group, in your opinion. But, this isn’t nearly the extent of your family. You look around at everyone- monsters climbing out of bushes and trees, coming out from the side of the house. This whole community is your family, and you love it so, so much. You feel bad they’re dressed so formally for what’s going to turn out to be a not-formal event.

“You weren’t kidding about the ice cream though, right?” Nimbus asks, lowly. 

“Course not! I’m not a kidder! Who wants ice cream?”

“y’know,” Sans says, strolling up to you and bending his down so you could hear him, “i know a cool place.”

That was how a good chunk of the monster population ended up at Hardee’s Ice Creamery in downtown- overflowing the tables inside and out. Nobody minded much, really. If you couldn’t sit, you sat on the curb or stood. Those who could, flew up and sat on the roof of the building. You sighed happily, looking around as you licked your cone. (Blueberry and white chocolate, the ice cream of winners.)

Undyne and Alphys are sharing a banana split: except Undyne only eats the fruit parts because cold food seems to be disgusting to her. Alphys seems fine with the arrangement.

Papyrus and Frisk are sitting on a little fence in front of the curb, swinging their legs and talking about the flavors they got. Sans is watching them, but he’s smiling. He seems to be pretty relaxed with the situation, so despite some of your own paranoia, you smile too. 

Toriel is in the corner making grudging conversation with Asgore: it looks awkward.

Mettaton is- wait. Where’d he g-

“DARLING!!” he exclaims. You fumble your cone, jumping- Sans catches it with some magic and hands it back to you, glaring at Metta as he grins behind you. (God, you can’t help it. You may not be into the guy, but you can’t NOT blush when he smiles at you.) “I just wanted to come over to say congratulations! Goodness, you’ve had quite a ride! Ooh, maybe after the festivities are over you would be down for an interview? I could use this kind of news on my show, and you’d even get a nice payout out of it! What do you say?”

You look at him for a minute, then look at Sans. His eyelights say, “no”, but…

“Alright, Mettaton. Tomorrow morning, okay? I’d be down for that.”

“Really? I mean- YAY!!! I’m so happy to hear it, darling, you’re going to be a star! Alright, just don’t wear black, alright? It looks bad with our backdrop! Oh- and if you can wrangle this one into it as well, well I would be simply delighted.”

“‘m only comin’ ta keep an eye on ya.”

“You don’t HAVE eyes, darling!”

“ha and ha.”

“Don’t be such a wet blanket, Sansy! See you tomorrow at say, ten?”

“Sure!”

With an excited squeal, he passes you a business card with an address and a number on it and flounces away. Sans gives you a “really?” look, but you just shrug.

“I’d be happy to tell all the bigots that are going to be coming after my ass what for. And how much I love you.”

The disapproval gives way to a soft blush, and he shrugs, turning back to his soft-serve. “yeah, well. he’s still the worst.”

“I’m aware, Sansy.”

He elbows you, which makes you snort again. Damn, he really never will get tired of that laugh of yours. You lean on him a bit, crunching on the cone. 

“hey, where’d nimbus go?”

“He got distracted at the counter. Apparently someone who works here knows a crap ton about kittens. We’ve been doin’ some stuff wrong, I think?”

“oof. that’s not good. but fish stick’s pretty tough.”

“We got ourselves a- hehe- Hardee boy.”

“pft. that’s so specific.”

“But it worked!”

“that it did, berry,” he leans over and steals a bite of your cone, “that it did.”

~~~~~~~

The rest of the day was a blur. After ice cream, most monsters that didn’t know you personally left, wishing you and Sans the best. He looked overwhelmed by all the attention, and still is, a bit. Once the crowd had thinned considerably, Toriel insisted that you go home and take a look at your house, since you didn’t have a chance to go inside, initially. Everyone else followed when you said you were going to go look, so you and the little parade of monsters behind you went to go see the place. Your house was beautifully cleaned, and there were tons of presents on your little dining room table. 

“that’s gonna be a lot of thank you cards,” Sans chuckled, poking a bag like it was going to spring to life and yell at him. 

“Yeah, but it’s worth it,” you said, grinning. 

You had dinner at your house, then, with everyone there. Admittedly, dinner was small because your appetite had been spoiled by ice cream, but you could call it snack time. You opened presents with Sans while everyone watched, and Papyrus took notes of who gave you what so you could write the thank-you notes later. Your personal favorite gift was a soft wool blanket from Toriel, and Sans’ favorite was a big box of Grillby’s special ketchup with a note that his tab was paid off. You were glad you weren’t going into this with hundreds of pounds of gold in debt. 

Nimbus was told he could stay with Papyrus- he needed a roomie, and so the transition was made. They decided to take Fish Stick, too, at least for a little while. Your brothers said their goodbyes and left. Undyne and Alphys hugged and noogied you and took their leave as well. Toriel was the last to stay, lingering with Frisk a moment.

“I wish you two all the best, alright? I hope you are happy together. Take care of one another. That is all love is.”

“Thank you,” you said, hugging her. Sans did the same, until you were all in a group hug together in the middle of the living room. Frisk hugged your legs.

And now, you’re standing in the living room, packing up the wrapping paper and gift bags into the recycling, with a weird little smile on your face. 

“you don’t have to clean all that up tonight.”

You turn around to look at him, grinning. 

“You have any better ideas of what I could do?”

“well,” he drawls, taking a few steps forward and wrapping his arms around you, “you do have me all to yourself, and all that.”

“What should I do with that?” you hum. 

“i dunno. we could sleep?”

You laugh suddenly, short and loud, pushing him a little. He backs off for a moment, only to swoop back in and tickle your sides.

“Bw- hahehenonONONO!” you squeal as he tickles you all over. It’s been the best day you’ve ever had, the best month you’ve ever had, and frankly, the best decision you ever could have made was going into that bakery.

~~~~~~~

Mettaton is sitting across from you in an electric-pink swivel chair, his chin sitting in his interlaced fingers, smiling at you. Sans is next to you, on a love seat in a startlingly similar shade of pink. A red light turns on, and Mettaton starts to talk:

“Beauties and gentlebeauties, welcome back to The Robot Talks! Today, we have Clara and Sans, recently soulbonded and ready to take on the world! They’ve had quite a journey thus far! Clara, could you tell us about it?”

You suck in a breath, and your hands heat up, and your eyes do, too… but those days are behind you. You breathe, and sigh, and smile.

“Where do I start? I’ve had quite a run, honestly.”

“Goodness, isn’t that the truth? You’ve nearly died, found your long lost brother, confronted your parents and been soulbonded, all back to back! I wouldn’t know where to begin either!” he looks at the camera, smiling, and a roar of laughter follows. You know it’s only a sound effect, but you still look over, wondering where the crowd is. “But, how about you start when you two first met?”

“When we first met… I mean, I didn’t have money for cupcakes…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)  
> theres a bonus chapter...............


	30. Bonus!

Wow~! That was one wild ride of a story, hasn’t it? I had a million different ideas for how this story was going to go, but here’s a start!

-Undyne gets suspicious of Clara and why she’s acting so shady and arrests her  
-Papyrus triggers Clara’s magic explosion with his handshake  
-Nimbus was gonna be dead :/  
-Sans was going to accidentally get drugged at the bar and get saved by a lumberjack chick with a bat  
-Fish Stick was gonna be a puppy 

and so on- I had a l-o-t of ideas. 

True to my word, I’m now going to talk about Fish Stick meeting everyone:

Undyne would meet Fish Stick and absolutely flip out. Why is it so small? Why do the little knives in its hands hurt so much? What’s with its eyes? It looks like a dog, but not? Why is it screaming? She would let Fish sit on her shoulder while she throws spears with the other arm, because oddly enough, the kitten seems to be attracted to r a w p o w e r . . .

Alphys would be much gentler with him- probably get him a little blanket or something and worry she was holding him wrong. She would be fussing at him and spoiling him like a grandma, honestly, and he would eat it up. He would probably learn to meow and fall over in despair around her to get her to feed him extra treats. 

Papyrus would mostly be curious, but he would also need a lot of help holding him and feeding him and playing with him because sensitive kitten ears + deafening voice volume = not great. But he would do an insane amount of research in an insanely short amount of time. 

Toriel would just treat Fish Stick like another one of her children, just smaller and unable to speak English. Make him a little house out of a cardboard box, feed him at the same time as she feeds everyone else, take pictures of him and show them to anyone who’ll stand still long enough. Give him little baths every few days. Fish Stick would eat it up. 

I feel like I should include Grillby, if only because Fish Stick would just sit in his pocket and get warm and fall asleep, and that imagery is so cute i cANnOt-

Anyway. This was a pretty okay thing to write, even if I lost some of my spark for it over time because Animal Crossing has ruined me and Tom Nook is a bitch, I like to think it was still pretty good! So! Yeah! Thank y’all a ton for three hundred motherfrickin kudos, which is a record for me, and for being so awesome in the comments and stuff. Means a lot!!!!!!!!!

(See y’all in [sunshine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24688183/chapters/59664355)...

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment below if ya liked it~~
> 
> *HEY*  
> I like [this.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23524711/chapters/56419774) Go read it.  
> 


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